Straining the Silence
by nybuu
Summary: Megatron only wants a reason to keep the idiotic, attractive traitor around. One solution to his problem is closer than he could've ever expected - and Starscream would do anything to keep that a secret. G1 Megatron/Starscream
1. Special Cure

**Disclaimer:** Don't own.

**AN:** So. My first multi-chaptered fic ever. Uh. I'm kind of nervous.

Anyway. The fic is apparently a Transformers one, and takes place in the G1 universe, somewhere in between the second season and the Movie. There will be slash and Plug & Play sex scenes in the following chapters.

The POV switches between Megatron and Starscream.

The units of time I use:

nanoklik ≈ a second  
klik ≈ a minute  
breem ≈ 8.3 minutes  
joor ≈ an hour  
solar cycle ≈ a day  
stellar cycle ≈ a year  
vorn ≈ 83 years

Reviews are very welcome, constructive criticism even more so.

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**1. Special Cure**

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**The Decepticons returned to base from their unsuccessful mission with disappointment radiating off their battered frames. Not that the failure of today's energon raid should've come as a surprise – Starscream had foreseen the fiasco joors ago, right after Megatron had explained the strategy. The current Decepticon leader was just that incompetent.

Starscream huffed his contempt, only to be pierced by an angry glare. The Seeker didn't have to turn around to recognise the mech standing behind him, but he did so slowly, an arrogant smirk taking place on his faceplates.

"Ah, my dear leader," the jet breathed out. Megatron's optics visibly narrowed at his sarcastic tone, and Starscream smirked a bit more. His leader seemed furious. The Seeker couldn't have resisted the urge to make a mocking comment even if he had wanted to, "Your strategy failed once again, did you notice?"

"You will come to my quarters when I call you."

Megatron's cold not-really-a-reply did not surprise the Air Commander, the mere murderous glint of the Decepticon leader's optics informing the whole world of the silver mech's present need for violence. The Seeker was fully aware of what it would take to calm that anger, and who Megatron would choose to assist him in that. It was not a big problem, Starscream had learnt to handle beatings and pain long ago. He would survive a twisted wing or two and crushed neck-cables.

Megatron turned away without another word, walking to the lift. Starscream could barely hear him asking Soundwave if they had any high-grade left, but the question made his frame stiffen in surprise and slight panic that instant. The jet quickly tuned his audio receptors to make sure he heard the Communications Officer's monotonic reply. The positive answer increased his sudden nervousness; Starscream knew his leader's drinking habits well enough to be able to tell that Megatron usually only drank when in a particularly bad mood. 'Particularly bad' meaning one that couldn't be tamed with just violence, but demanded a … _different cure_. The Seeker's Spark gave another thrill, this time excited, his frame warming up at the thought even as worry grew in his processor. His rebellious body would enjoy it, being used to soothe his leader's anger – and his mind and Spark would burn and hurt and yearn for solar cycles after this night.

The Seeker's optics followed as Megatron stepped into the lift, and he turned to make his way into his own quarters only after the lift doors closed.

The call would come through his comm.-link in a few breems. Starscream needed to get ready, which mostly meant steeling his mind and trying to kill the unhealthy feelings he held for his leader.

Tonight he'd fall into recharge with Megatron's name on his lips, circuits sparking as the result of yet another self-induced overload. He knew it already.

* * *

The Decepticon leader truly hated some days, and this one he placed into that category without an astrosecond's doubt. It was not often that he had to face Optimus Prime, such an utter failure of an energon raid and Starscream's idiotic rebellion during one and same solar cycle. His audio receptors had been ringing quite enough after the punch to the faceplates he had received from the Autobot leader, but now, after having to bear Starscream's high-pitched, scoffing comments too, the silver Decepticon wondered if half of the sounds he heard existed outside his aching processor.

Megatron sank into the large chair behind his desk, grabbing the cube of high-grade he had retrieved from the storage room on the way to his quarters.

The high-grade did not exactly calm him, it merely clouded his CPU and weakened his self-control. A sip of the energon made one thing clear, however: someone would be feeling even worse than he in a few breems. That someone being Starscream, naturally. The insolent Seeker had begged for it with his disrespectful attitude.

Another gulp of the sweet-tasting liquid suggested the Decepticon leader that it could be the time for a _special punishment_ today, and no matter how loud the rational part of his processor screamed that that particular means of "punishment" hadn't brought him any pleasure in stellar cycles and apparently had no effect on the Seeker, the high-grade had already decided for him. A hot spike of lust shot through his frame, bringing a half-smirk onto his faceplates.

It had been more than half a Earth year since the last time. A whisper of thought tried to remind Megatron that said last time had left him just as discontented as all the previous times, but the gun-former ignored it. He should give Starscream one more chance, just because he could still remember the very first time so well; the high-pitched, oddly seductive and explicitly drunk words and the resulting very over-energised interface from all those vorns ago. A jab in his core reminded Megatron that it had never happened like that again, that Starscream had never satisfied after the first time, but... One more chance. Just one more, to give Starscream an opportunity to show the Decepticon leader why he should tolerate his Second's constant insubordination and backstabbing. If the Seeker failed to present such a reason – failed to perform acceptably during the upcoming punishment –, _then_ it would finally be "extinction to all traitors".

Megatron's smirk faded into a grimace, but lust still swirled in his core, demanding to be tamed. The silver Decepticon sighed, opening a private comm.-link.

_'Starscream. To my quarters, now.'_

Maybe the Seeker really would satiate this time.


	2. Bitter Secrets

**AN:** Thanks for the reviews so far!

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**2. Bitter Secrets**

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Nervousness swirled in Starscream's systems, little tingles of anticipation running up and down his frame. The half-excited anxiety did not make its way very deep, though; the jet's core was taken over by cold fear that kept pushing him down. The Seeker tried to keep his chin proudly up, to strut like he was supposed to, yet every step he took made him shrink a little more. The narrow corridors echoed behind him, the clacks of his footsteps bouncing off the walls.

"_Starscream. To my quarters, now."_

The Decepticon leader had called him. Starscream wanted nothing but to return into the relative safety of his personal quarters, but he had long ago learnt better than to disobey these special calls that rang gruff and slightly slurring through his comm.-link. The learning process had been greatly expedited by an almost lethal Fusion Cannon shot – Megatron rarely dealt Starscream any life-dangering damage, but that blast had come terrifyingly close to deactivating the jet permanently. The Seeker could still remember the feeling of air flowing _through_ his body even after all the vorns. His Spark chamber had barely survived the shot unscathed, and after that Starscream had decided to obey these particular orders without question.

A sigh flew into the air to accompany the echoes of his steps, Starscream's optics running on the monotonic pattern of the floor until he realised that the sight meant that his gaze and his chin had dropped down again at some point, his posture slumped to reflect his apprehension. His helm snapped up, a growl of frustration following the shift of his optics. The Seeker's gaze stopped upon a dark purple mech at the end of the corridor and a sneer made its way onto his faceplates, his fearfulness turning into annoyance the instant he saw he wasn't alone. "Skywarp."

The other Seeker turned around, a surprised frown on his pale face. Starscream straightened up quickly, his outer appearance seeping (fake) self-assurance, wings perked and contempt radiating off his smirk. Skywarp may have been almost blind to body language anyway, but the Air Commander only showed weakness when it served him – most usually to save his hide in dangerous situations.

"Evening, 'Screamer," Skywarp announced eventually, his tone and mischievous grin a sure sign of upcoming idiocy.

The red Seeker huffed, walking closer to his trinemate with his upper lip finely curled. The purple jet observed him with visible smugness, silent until Starscream stopped in front of him. The grin spread wider. "Gonna go visit Megatron?"

The startle had run through Starscream's frame before he had any chance to stop it, and he knew his optics had widened for an undignified nanoklik. The Air Commander steeled his faceplates quickly, pushed away his surprise and shock, but the glint to Skywarp's optics told it was too late.

The red Seeker did his best to regain his superiority, regarding his trinemate with a scowl. "What makes you think that?"

"Oh, I'm not sure... Maybe the fact I heard him invite you over. You think we can still have that training session tomorrow?"

Annoyance started to heat Starscream's circuits, his dental plates gritting together and optics narrowing to tell that to Skywarp, too. A little brush of surprise still managed to wedge itself in between scorn and irritability – he had never thought Skywarp would remember the battle-training he had appointed for tomorrow. The red Seeker's next words were hissed through his dental plates, his voice lower than usually, "Oh, I would never pass the wonderful opportunity to train with you and Thundercracker. What are you implying?"

Skywarp shrugged, visibly self-satisfied. "Oh, I just figured flying could be hard with a couple of holes through your wing. Megs didn't seem too happy earlier."

The truth in the words made the fear in Starscream's core grow cold, but none of it made it into his sneer or contemptuous tone when he huffed, "I certainly have better things to do than this."

Starscream brushed past the other Seeker, heels clacking angrily on the floor. He made it three steps from Skywarp before a snicker sounded in the dim hallway, preceding the jeering "_Like getting yourself beaten?"_ and a flash of purple that indicated Skywarp's departure.

Starscream grit his dental plates, barely holding his annoyance at bay. He forced himself to continue his walk to Megatron's quarters, his reluctant steps leading him into the lift.

His anger gave way to fear when he was alone once more, the lift moving swiftly towards pain and pleasure and hate and bitterness – "punishment". The ride didn't take long, the door opening to reveal one more narrow corridor. Starscream stepped out and huffed, gathering the remaining slivers of his natural self-confidence to close the little distance between him and the menacing dark door that stood at the end of the hallway.

The jet knew his finger shook when he pushed a blipping button by the doorframe, asking permission to enter. Megatron's gruff _"Come in."_ made him gulp, the Decepticon leader's annoyance strong enough to pierce the door that slowly started to slide open.

Starscream stepped into the room, the darkness enveloping him in a tense embrace. He warily glanced at his surroundings, already knowing what he would see. The quarters looked the same they always did: a bit empty, a bit lonely and extremely bare.

The wide space was only occupied with a berth, a table with a bunch of datapads on it and a huge dark chair behind the desk. A few other seats were hidden in the corners of the room, rarely used and therefore placed out of the way. Carved into the far wall was a huge Decepticon insignia, two large windows giving view into the dark sea on either side of it. A small workstation stood near the desk with its flashing little lights and numerous currently dark monitors that normally showed video feed from the base or served as a communication device between Cybertron and Earth. (Starscream couldn't help but wonder why Megatron wanted Shockwave to make video calls – the cyclops' "face" wasn't something the Seeker would've missed seeing.)

In short, it was a huge but mostly unused space. Empty.

Starscream stretched out his silent observation until a low growl demanded his attention and brought his gaze to rest on the large, intimidating form of his leader. The silver mech stood behind his desk, his red optics turning up to regard the Seeker.

"Closer."

The Decepticon leader's inebriation was audible in the gruff word, as well as in the fact that it indeed was one single word. Megatron's orders always got shorter and more demanding when he was over-energised. The Seeker lowered his helm in a way that screamed submission and walked to the desk, slow steps unsure.

"Yes, Lord Megatron?" Starscream stopped in front of the table, face carefully controlled to keep his fear and anticipation a secret. The task of hiding his nervousness became considerably more difficult when Megatron moved, the anxious flinch of Starscream's wings too quick and instinctive for him to restrain.

The Seeker kept quiet, observing Megatron who slowly, predatorily circled his desk, footsteps heavy on the floor. Approaching. The tyrant stopped right behind Starscream, the flier growing tense. The frame behind him radiated warmth onto his back, the smell of high-grade flowing off the larger mech in sweet-smelling gusts. Starscream shivered.

The dark insignia of his faction, rough and sharp on the far wall, suddenly became very interesting a distraction, even if concentrating on anything but Megatron's frame – so close to him, so warm, so powerful – was nearly impossible. The Seeker would've pressed against the larger mech if not for a sudden, painful yank to his wing. Fingers had curled around a sensitive wing-tip, now tightening, starting to pull Starscream around. The Seeker offered no resistance, his wing joints crying their pained protests in vain. Soon he stood facing Megatron, hesitantly looking at his leader. The tyrant's lips were curled into a snarl, his optics burning with the same anger that radiated off the silver body and teased Starscream's sensitive plating with its heat.

A dark hand curled around the Seeker's throat, tight.

"Starscream. You just keep failing me. Again and again."

Megatron's words seeped over-energised hate and frustration, perfectly matching the expression on the silver faceplates. Starscream said nothing, forcing his face into blankness that would've made Soundwave proud.

Megatron leant close. _Close, _the distance between their faceplates more than unnecessarily small. Starscream's covered the hitch of his intakes with a groan of faked discomfort.

Megatron's fingers twitched, tense around the Seeker's neck. The crunch of the gun-former's dental plates gritting together sounded audibly in the silence of the room, alerting Starscream to prepare for pain far stronger than the one caused by the unrelenting grasp on his neck. He didn't steel himself in vain: Megatron's rage soon burst in the form of a strong punch, and – despite the pain throbbing in his face – Starscream felt relieved, since he had once more managed to keep his fear and excitement and all the other constituents of the muddy chaos he had labelled as "his feelings toward Megatron" under control. Even with the nearly intimate closeness and the hard, deliciously tight grip around his neck. The punch to his face had been a good way to shake him out of that quickly forming haze. For a moment, anyway.

"You're pathetic," Megatron growled, voice thick with disgust. Starscream could feel the heated, high-grade-soaked words slapping into his faceplates, his processor once more starting to grow muddier and muddier with unhealthy pleasure. He didn't answer his leader. Megatron's anger seemed to gain new burn, the fingers around Starscream's sore neck clenching hard. Starscream bit back a groan, doing his best to keep his pain a secret.

It was unlike him, to bear through pain and humiliation without trying to resist; normally Starscream would've started fighting back or begging for mercy at the first touch of pain, but it was different with Megatron over-energised. The Decepticon leader was violent and unpredictable enough when sober, and high-grade definitely didn't calm either of those characteristics. Starscream did not feel like provoking that anger further. It was safer to let Megatron do what he wanted.

His thoughts were cut when Megatron spoke up again, his questions dropping at a demanding, disgruntled pace, "Quiet, aren't we? Why? That's not like you, Seeker."

A foolish part of Starscream wanted to answer Megatron in some way, words he could've said starting to gather on his vocaliser. Words about hate and attraction. Rebellious words, truthful words, secrets he could've spilled.  
He said nothing, biting his lip instead.

The next punch was undoubtedly loaded with all of Megatron's hate towards him, the sudden, furious hit snapping Starscream's head to side. A groan the Seeker couldn't bite back flew from his lips, the jet barely noting through his pain that the grip vanished from around his neck. A harsh push against Starscream's sensitive wings followed soon after, the impact making the jet lose his balance.

He stumbled backwards, his back meeting a hard surface in a violent manner. An _"Oof!" _sprung from Starscream's vocaliser, his face contorting in pain. He lay there for a while, collecting himself, before even thinking of observing the object onto which he had fell. When Starscream a moment later turned to see it, it turned out to be Megatron's desk. He lay sprawled on the table, upper body slightly elevated, resting on his elbows. Relatively defenceless. That thought sped up his process of regaining balance and clarity of processor, and Starscream tried to jump onto his feet. He never got up, two loud bangs startling him to fall back down onto the hard desk.

Starscream's optics barely had time to widen in surprise before they had to do that in shock.

Megatron was leaning on him. Above him, close. With his arms trapping Starscream, dark hands placed onto the table on either side of the Seeker's body. The snarl on Megatron's face promised pain, maybe even deactivation, as did the low hum of the Fusion Cannon planted on Megatron's arm.

A nervous, gasp-like sound flew into the limited air between their faceplates. The Seeker used all of his self-control to keep his fear out of his face, and his vocaliser found its chance there, activating now when there was nothing keeping it restrained. "P-please."

Megatron startled visibly, something in his expression changing. Starscream had no idea what his own plea had been for, but the word seemed to have affected his leader: the silver faceplates reflected confusion.

Silence fell upon the two mechs.

The moment stretched on, Starscream's optics wide as he stared at Megatron. The Seeker still saw fury in the red optics, but its flames burnt weaker than nanokliks ago. Their optics locked onto each others', neither of them moved in what felt like an eternity.

Starscream was thinking on saying something or trying to escape the closeness, but a sudden stroke of sensation shocked him into watching a black hand setting down onto his cockpit, slowly – unsurely? The sensor nodes under the fingers popped alive, starting to bombard Starscream's processor with notions about how pleasurable the brush of digits felt. He tried to escape the feeling, to lean away – he should've been prepared, he had known to wait for his "punishment" – but it was useless with Megatron leaning on him like that: one strong silver arm preventing him from trying to escape to the left, and the other most likely ready to shoot out to keep him in place if he tried to move to the right. Starscream was practically helpless, because shooting the silver mech in the face was out of question in this situation. The Seeker really did not want to find out how many limbs he would lose if he tried that on an over-energised Megatron.

The hand on his cockpit started moving, sliding down the fragile glass, reaching the Seeker's waist. Starscream's vocaliser hitched, his core temperature spiking. The digits quickly found the jet's interface panel, Starscream staring in distressed shock at the smooth circles they drew around the lower part of his cockpit. The Seeker's gaze turned to Megatron's face for a quick glance, to find out that the tyrant's optics were now burning with a different fire, one that – so Starscream figured – reflected feelings of superiority and power. Because there he lay, under Megatron, submitting to the touches he was not supposed to enjoy.

"Open." Megatron's order rang in the silence, the earlier rage in his voice replaced by something Starscream found even scarier, even if he couldn't identify it as any particular emotion.

Starscream offlined his optics, bracing himself with a hungry intake of air. He let the panel slide open.

Starscream knew that he trembled, faintly but uncontrollably, and he sunk his dental plates into his lower lip, trying to still his frame. The sharp pain in his lip component and the energon pouring into his mouth weren't enough to overpower the anticipation streaming under his plating, neither was his desperate try to cool down his frame with another intake of air. The situation was starting to seem hopeless, every shiver of his body bringing the shattering his self-control closer and coaxing him to beg for Megatron to take him. He was just about to throw away all self-preservation and kick or shoot his leader and _run_, when the pressure of the fingers was removed.

Time seemed to slow down for a while, waiting for another touch on the Seeker's body to give it permission to start running again. Another touch would come, the jet knew to wait for it.

The moment of fearful waiting dragged on, Starscream's anxiety growing stronger and stronger until he could almost feel Megatron's cable already inside his port, his energy being drained out of him. It always happened like that, the connection unfinished. The energy always flowed in one direction – into Megatron's systems –, never building up into a shared overload.

Interfacing that way was a common means of exchanging energy between Cybertronians, not something that should've awakened excitement the like of which Starscream was currently experiencing; it didn't even count as an intimate act. The process was quite simple: the giver gifted his energy and the receiver would either absorb it for his body to use, or more rarely, in case his energy levels were already high enough, achieve overload. Megatron, having always drank Primus knew how many cubes of high-grade before these punishments obviously needed no excess energy, but that exactly made these encounters so painful for Starscream. It were his leader's nonchalant and dispassionate overloads that had killed all the hope Starscream had ever had of answered feelings – they were a heavy proof that Megatron only did this to weaken and humiliate Starscream, since he apparently got no pleasure out of the Seeker's life-energy he robbed.

Almost lost in his nervous thoughts, Starscream jerked uncontrollably when Megatron's cord actually buried into his port.

His frame gave a violent shudder, his thoughts escaping his processor the moment his leader began draining his energy.

* * *

Starscream's shudder of – most likely – disgust worked like a sudden snap of fingers. The Decepticon leader's optics focused again, recalibrating to clear the lustful fog that had been clouding them for awhile. It was the second time during this session with Starscream that something forced Megatron to exit his over-energised, uncontrolled haze to think.

The first time had been when Starscream had let out that little pleading word. It had shook the gun-former out of a mess of heated rage that would've resulted in the Seeker's death: Megatron's Fusion Cannon had been contently charging, the warlord's full intention to deactivate Starscream. The jet had, after all, acted like a drone, accepting Megatron's punches and choking grip without even trying to defend himself or run away. Starscream's indifference had enraged Megatron, the fact that he had promised himself to give the fool one more chance completely erased from the warlord's processor. It had been ridiculous, infuriating, how Starscream had took his punches so spiritlessly, not once screeching curses or begging for mercy – Megatron liked his subordinates submissive, but not phlegmatic. Especially when it came to the one subordinate that proudly called himself Starscream; Megatron had long ago started to enjoy crushing his Second's rebellious spirit. Making the unreasonably self-assured Seeker crawl and beg and submit to him always thrilled the warlord: the power he held over Starscream, the way he could destroy Starscream's eternal, prideful conceit.

It wasn't hard, nor satisfying, to dominate a being who seemed to have left his free will behind.

The Seeker's unacceptable behaviour – just how hard was it to let some pain and fear show while being beaten? –, added to the anger that had made Megatron's teeth grit together before Starscream had even entered his quarters, had seemed like enough of a reason to shoot the flier in the Spark and get rid of him for good, but then that little stuttering _"Please."_ had fell from Starscream's lips, snapping Megatron back into attention. The tone, the pure fear in it. The charge that had built in Megatron's Fusion Cannon had promptly flowed back into his circuits. It had been then that the Decepticon leader had realised just how … promising Starscream's position on his desk looked like.

The second curtain of heat had been of lust instead of rage, caused by that sight: his Second in Command, usually so proud and full of contempt, spread out in front of him like a meal. A Pit-damn good-looking meal at that. Megatron's servo had reached out for the Seeker's cockpit on its own, and after that he had been completely drawn to the task of getting into the port under the white metal.

He had got in there, his cord now snugly seated in Starscream, energy flowing to his systems from the tri-coloured body, but... The shudder. The Seeker's disgust. It had made Megatron exit his over-energised, uncontrolled haze for the second time, to _see_.

Starscream was still under him, still looking pretty, and the Seeker's life still poured into Megatron through the cable connecting them, but now the Decepticon leader noticed the way the dark lower lip was sucked into the Seeker's mouth, the way the round optics had offlined – the sight reminded the warlord of something that he should never have disregarded: Starscream was not supposed to like this.

This was punishment. Megatron did it only to weaken and humiliate the Seeker, yet some delusional, lust-clouded part of his mind had half-expected Starscream to like it. Had expected a bright blue hand to grab his helm, a pair of long legs to curl around his waist and a cable to plug into his own port – all memories from their first time; so passionate and _perfect_ that the silver mech did not want to think about comparing this to it_. _

Megatron's dentas ground together, lust slowly fading from his systems. He started draining energy from the unresponsive jet under him as fast and forcefully as he could, his only goal to reach overload as soon as possible, to brush the newly-awakened, angered bitterness out of his processor. His fans were working hard, audibly, but the sound didn't hold any undertone of desire to it. Not anymore.

* * *

Starscream almost groaned when Megatron suddenly hurried the process. His self-control was wearing thin, being drained away with every new, twistedly pleasurable pull of energy – the flier knew he shouldn't have enjoyed the way his frame grew weaker and colder every passing nanoklik, a mech's systems were not supposed to find any pleasure in that. Still, the closeness and the feeling of his leader's cord connected to his port stirred up a burning longing inside Starscream, his Spark becoming alive with erratic thrills and pulses. It was unhealthy and against the Air Commander's haughty basic programming to be turned on by the feeling of someone weakening him, but no-one had told Starscream's core that – it sang its eager little songs to the sound of Megatron's cooling fans growing louder and louder with every charge-building tug of energy he stole from the Seeker's systems.

Stascream had been drifting into a half-awake state of weakness and bitter pleasure, the sound of Megatron's final unimpressed grunt pulling him back to reality. The silver mech's cooling fans started whirring more contently, quickly erasing any sign that the Decepticon leader had overloaded at all; a solid proof that Megatron had drained Starscream's energy only to humiliate him. The Decepticon leader hadn't even enjoyed it, evidently, a sour expression growing on his silver faceplates.

It was over, but what the Air Commander's chronometer claimed to have been only a breem or so had felt like a painfully pleasure-tinted eternity.

Megatron slowly collected himself and the Seeker almost moaned at the sensation of the tyrant's cable drawing out of him. Crackling ripples of electricity danced on the walls of Starscream's port, straying to caress his retracted cable. It took a strictly controlled puff of air to get his unreasonable arousal under control. The Seeker would get rid of it, once in his quarters, but first he'd have to control himself long enough to get away from Megatron.

Starscream closed his panel and climbed onto his slightly wobbly legs, sending a quick look in his leader's direction. Megatron looked like nothing had happened at all, throwing the jet a burning, hateful glare. Their gazes locked together for a nanoklik, red meeting red.

"Get out."

The murderous tone and a violent hand gesture chased Starscream out of the quarters he would've gladly occupied for a little longer. The Seeker ignored his wants as well as his feelings for the tyrant, striding towards the door. Any act of insubordination would've only resulted in getting himself beaten, and any further contact with Megatron, be it in the form of fingers around his neck-cables or a foot crushing him against the cold floor, would've made Starscream beg for Megatron to take him.

"Have a good night, sir," Starscream muttered once close enough to the door to escape swiftly if Megatron attacked, lacing the words with venom and defiance. He was angry, offended, after all; or would've been, if not for his feelings and yearning in his Spark. A low, dangerous growl answered his words, and for a moment the Seeker thought he'd leave the quarters with a smoking hole through one of his wings. Nothing came, however, and Starscream strolled out the door, wings drooped down in exhaustion and misery.

A deep sigh broke the silence of the empty corridor once the door closed behind Starscream. He let the sound linger in the air for an astrosecond before forcing himself to stifle the hopeless Spark-ache that had caused it. Starscream pushed his weakness under the hatred that he had learnt to summon up at any time, gritting his dental plates to make his anger feel a bit more real.

He made his way to the lower floors, his quarters bidding him welcome with promises of a self-induced overload and a good night's recharge.

* * *

Megatron stood there staring at the closed door, trying to figure out why he hadn't raised his arm and shot the Seeker when he had had the chance and the reason to do so. He should have, the bitter aftertaste of an unsatisfying overload clinging to his glossa just like it had after all the previous times.

The Decepticon leader walked to his desk slowly, sank into his chair and let the the buzz of high-grade lull his processor into a half-offline mess of freely sailing thoughts and pictures of past, present and future.

The subject of Starscream clung to his CPU, the first thing Megatron could think of that the Seeker had failed him, _again_. The warlord had given his Second one more chance to prove himself, but the only thing the 'punishment' had confirmed was that the jet's attractiveness seemed to cloud Megatron's judgement – the lust Megatron had felt for Starscream had made him forget his anger and hate towards the fool, had brought up memories of their actually pleasurable and (as far as Megatron knew, or cared) mutually enjoyable first time. During that weak and, thank Primus, short moment the warlord would've been ready to tolerate all of the treachery and idiocy his Second had to offer just because of his lust for the pretty Seeker.

He couldn't accept that.

Starscream was useless, a failure. Naturally, there were days when Starscream shone, maybe came up with a nice strategy or managed to damage an Autobot or two, but those were a rarity. Most of the time the Seeker just scoffed and screeched and failed due to his impatience and endless idiocy; annoyed everyone and tried to backstab Megatron. Back when he had appointed the jet as his Second in Command, the Decepticon leader had found him a promising young mech with tons of potential and lots of spirit he admired... and unbelievably good looks, too. Starscream had seemed like a perfect Air Commander and Second in Command. A bit overconfident and inexperienced, granted, but promising.

Over the time, however, the Seeker's potential had proven to be tightly locked behind Starscream's numerous personality flaws; everything from cowardice to impatience to selfishness seemed to have placed themselves perfectly to prevent Starscream from using any of his talents in a truly efficient manner. It was frustrating, watching the Seeker constantly fail while knowing that he could've been so good in so many things. It angered the gun-former.

Megatron's admiration for his Second's attitude still existed, though. Starscream's persistent defiance was alluring, and even more so was the way that defiance crumbled to give way to cowardice and pitiful begging for mercy. The Seeker's ardour was enticing and sometimes entertaining, but it had its downsides too. Starscream's easily-flaring temper often led to a fellow Decepticon getting caught in intense Null-ray fire, the Seeker's trigger finger dangerously quick and susceptible. Not to mention the child-like tantrums his Second occasionally threw. They were ridiculous.

But the looks. Oh, they were a whole another story. Basically Starscream's form looked just like his two trinemates' forms, but either it was the flamboyant colours of his armour, or the way the red Seeker knew how to show off the best features of his slender body, but Megatron never found himself staring at the hips or legs of any other Seeker. There exactly lay the problem, since it seemed like Starscream's appealing outer appearance was the biggest reason Megatron nowadays tolerated the Seeker, and that just didn't work. It was an army Megatron led, not a personal harem – no matter how pretty his treacherous little Second's face, the Decepticon leader shouldn't have let it compensate for the utter failure the flier otherwise was. Megatron saw that, now. Let himself see it.

His arm shot out in uncontrollable, high-grade-muddied anger, sending a previously neat pile of datapads clattering onto his desk. The silver mech barely heard the thud of one of them continuing its way onto the floor, and he didn't care.

Megatron had been proven countless times that he just couldn't make himself shoot the Seeker to death, but his Fusion Cannon tingled with the desire to try it one more time. The urge seemed sensible enough to act after, and the silver mech was just about to stand up from his seat and chase after his Second in Command, when a small rattling sound interrupted him, the static sound slowly transforming into recognisable words.

_'- -atron? Lord Megatron?'_

Megatron blinked, glancing around his quarters to map the source of the distracting shout.

_'Lord Megatron!'_

The glowing light next to a large monitor turned the silver mech's attention to the right direction, and he finally identified the voice as Shockwave's, the sound echoing through the speakers of his workstation. Megatron pushed himself onto his feet, making his way to his workstation, pushing a button next to the monitor to switch it on. He sat into the uncomfortable chair, pressing two more buttons to accept the video call. He curtly nodded to the image of Cybertron's one-opticked guardian appearing onto the monitor, and answered the slightly disrupted call, struggling to not slur (he had almost forgot he was over-energised), "Megatron here. What is it, Shockwave?"

_'Ah, Lord Megatron! Finally!'_ Relief coloured the purple mech's voice and the Decepticon leader could almost see it shine on the cyclops' expressionless face-plate, too. Shockwave had been trying to form the connection for awhile, it seemed. The cyclops continued, _'Not to sound disrespectful, but I thought I would've received the cubes of energon you promised to send by now, sir.'_

Megatron listened to Shockwave's words, his silver mouth curved downwards and optics narrowed to reflect his frustrated confusion. He had to dig around his muddy processor for a while to bring up the necessary memory files. Oh, now he remembered. Shockwave needed energon. Megatron should've attended to that before drinking and punishing himself by punishing Starscream, but the problem had been, and was, the utter failure of the day's mission. The Decepticons had barely got half of the produced energon cubes filled before being forced to retreat. After sending Shockwave the cubes he needed to keep Cybertron running, the remaining energon would last for the Earth troops for about two solar cycles. Which meant that they'd have to make another raid soon. The thought brought an instant grimace onto Megatron's already contorted face.

"I'll have Soundwave send you 75 cubes in a klik. Activate the space bridge."

_'Only 75? Didn't you say one hundred before the raid?'_

Megatron growled, inebriated frustration deepening the sound. "Unexpected problems. You'll have to do with 75... well, 80 cubes."

Shockwave nodded hesitantly, announcing that the space bridge would open in a breem before the transmission ended. The silver mech sighed and stood up to take seat at his desk again. Once more sitting in the large, comfortable chair, Megatron opened a comm.-link to contact his Communications Officer. _'Soundwave! Send Cybertron 80 energon cubes. The small spacebridge will open soon.'_

_'... As you command.'_

Soundwave's drone-like voice was monotonic as ever, but Megatron could hear that the mech had been deep in recharge. The Decepticon leader shook his helm, refusing to feel guilt for interrupting his loyal telepath's recharge instead of getting up from his chair and taking care of sending the cubes himself. _'Oh, and Soundwave, we'll need to make a plan for a new energon raid. A strategic meeting tomorrow morning. Megatron out.'_

The Communications Officer's metallic sigh reached Megatron before he cut the link, and he couldn't help letting out one himself, too; his sigh a touch less metallic and way more disgruntled.

The whole solar cycle had turned out miserable. Especially the encounter with Starscream. It had left a cold lump of rage into the warlord's Spark, every pulse his core gave feeding hate to his systems.

Something broke with sharp sound, shaking Megatron from his thoughts. An empty energon cube – the shards of it – lay on his table. His right servo rested next to them, looking so innocent, like it hadn't just crushed the container the gun-former hadn't even noticed. The Decepticon leader shook his mingled helm in the empty silence of his quarters.

There was soft whirring of offlining systems, yet thoughts gnawed Megatron's processor, uncaring of his best tries to fall in recharge onto his desk.


	3. A Six Day Week

**AN: **And finally the plot starts to start. Thanks for the reviews so far!

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3. A Six-Day Week

* * *

He onlined too soon, feeling like he hadn't got any recharge at all. Starscream's systems booted up slowly, yet another self-finished overload and his foolishly ecstatical whisper of Megatron's name springing to his mind as the concluding memory files of last night. He pushed them to a remote part of his processor, where they met and gathered with numerous similar memory files hidden before them.

The Seeker stood up from his berth with certain reluctance in his movements, sitting at his desk to drink his morning – well, actually it was the last evening's – ration of energon. The liquid energy flowed down his throat, dearly needed after the tiring experiences from yesterday night. A sudden constricting of his Spark made Starscream instantly regret letting his thoughts to stray into that area, the fresh longing in his core bringing up memories that he didn't want or need right now.

The last night's punishment had been just like all the previous times, following the familiar script that only gave Megatron hateful lines of dialogue, Starscream suffering to enjoy through it in bitter silence.

It had to end, but Starscream had thought so after every single encounter like this, starting from times on Cybertron and the very first time Megatron had even dared to try to get into his port: the one time that had left the Seeker with an untouched port and a large hole through his chassis. The Seeker could still remember the strangely expectant gleam in Megatron's unfocused – the tyrant had been slightly over-energised back then, but in a happy, rambling way – when Starscream had entered his leader's quarters, and even better he remembered the way that gleam had turned into a raging fire the moment Starscream had realised that Megatron expected him to interface with him and had objected with a screeching _"Are you out of your mind? Why would I want to - -". _The next memory file that wasn't corrupted by pain was of him in the med bay, Hook informing him that he was lucky to still function.

Once Starscream had been repaired, it had taken Megatron half a stellar cycle to comm him for the next try, that being the first time the silver Decepticon had actually got into his port to drain his energy. The punishments had continued occasionally after that, once or twice a stellar cycle and only when Megatron was angry and over-energised. Time after time the Seeker's attraction – his admiration for his leader had developed into something stronger – and hope to respond and participate in the one-sided interfaces had grown, eventually leading him to this newest experience.

He didn't want to think about it, but the longing in his Spark made it hard to forget. Starscream settled for purging everything related to last night from his processor: there went frustration, hurt and reports about his finished self-repairs (minor repairs to his neck-cables and wing joints and bigger ones to his face) with a whoosh, leaving Starscream with crankiness and disdain. Pride was a little harder to fish up from his processor with details of the last night's 'humiliating' experiences still creeping on the background, but he managed it after fanning out his wings, raising his chin up and performing two supercilious snorts. Now that was how it – he – was supposed to be.

Standing up, Starscream prepared for the training session with his trine he had promised to suffer through today. The door of his quarters slid close behind him, his heels clacking on the floors as he made his way towards the flight deck. The Seeker didn't greet the fellow Decepticons that passed him, marching past them with an air of superiority. Most of it fake, exaggerated, though – Starscream didn't really feel that superior right now, rather small and Spark-hurt, actually. Both of them things he couldn't let show.

He arrived at his destination eventually, his trinemates already at the flight deck.

"Oh, hiya, 'Screamer!"

The Air Commander let Skywarp's idiotically enthusiastic greeting disrupt him, offering the purple Seeker a grimace in return. Thundercracker's calm _"Morning, Starscream"_ the red Seeker answered with a slightly less disdainful glance. He stopped in front of the two, scrutinised them with calculative optics and announced, "We are going to train our trinework today. Formations and techniques _I_ naturally have mastered vorns ago. I hope your simple processors will adopt them without crashing too many times."

The two looked bored, but it didn't really matter as long as they didn't start mouthing off. Starscream stepped forward to take his place in front of the trine, waiting for the tower of the Decepticons' underwater HQ to surface. It did so, the dock opening to reveal the sight of dawning skies in a few kliks, but Starscream got interrupted just before he could give the order to take to air.

"Heh, I see you didn't get sent to med bay last night."

The Air Commander swirled around, his wings perked and movements tense. Starscream had almost forgotten that Skywarp had met him last evening, on the way to Megatron's quarters – he had stronger memories from the night, too.

The other was smirking at him, smugness shining from his white faceplates. Starscream glared at his idiotic trinemate. The fact that Skywarp seemed to love annoying Starscream didn't make the red Seeker like the teleporter any more, their conversations always filled with sarcasm and jeering. The dislike Starscream felt towards the purple Seeker wasn't strong enough to be called hate, though, that feeling the Decepticon SIC had reserved only for Megatron, and probably Soundwave too. Still, the purple idiot certainly annoyed his trineleader to no end.

Starscream answered the teleporter eventually, annoyance evident in his voice, "No, I didn't. I couldn't have left you two to train alone, who knows how many times you would've killed yourselves and each other."

"Aw, so nice of you to care for us like that. You're the best trineleader ever!" Skywarp announced, pausing for a moment to snort before continuing, "So... Megs was gentle last night?"

The teleporter's smirk had grew into full mischief, but Starscream barely noticed it, the purple jet's words hitting him like a shot of Fusion Cannon. A wave of cold washed over him, and all he could do was to stare at Skywarp, face dropping into blankness matching that of his mind.

The words had stung, even if Starscream knew that they hadn't been meant to. They shouldn't have; he knew Skywarp had talked about the punishment he should've gone through last night – a real one with punches and Fusion Cannon shots and _only_ them –, but the word choices had made Starscream's foolish Spark tighten. Because the words could've had sounded like they had implied something else. Something that could've been true. Something Starscream would've wanted to be true. The jet didn't want to add the "something that would never become true", no matter how painfully fresh the memories from the last night. He wasn't that desperate or weak.

It was the slowly growing frown on the purple jet's faceplates that finally shook Starscream awake from his shock, his vocaliser presenting the first words he could form to draw attention away from the little crack in his façade, _"Guess he was.", _but his tone was emotionless, small, and it earned him a new set optics studying his face, Thundercracker turning to cast him a curious glance.

"... 'Screamer?"

"Uh, Starscream, you alright?"

Starscream waved a hand, dismissively. Like nothing was wrong, even if he knew that everything from his empty gaze to the feeble hand gesture he had made told the two that he most definitely was not 'alright' – normally he would've screeched _"Of course I am, fools!"_ if he had been. Or even if he hadn't.

Starscream turned around, his back to his trinemates. "Let's go. I don't intend to spend the whole solar cycle with you."

Out of his optic corner Starscream could see his trinemates' confused looks. The red Seeker snarled at the skies in front of him, transforming into his jet mode and firing up his thrusters. He heard his trinemates follow him, the rumble of jet engines covering the screeches of startled sea birds.

* * *

A blipping sound cut into Megatron's recharge like an energon blade. Threads of annoyance spread in his groggy processor and a low growl made its way out of his mouth as a warning of his foul mood. The panel by the door seemed unaffected, another blip breaking the silence Megatron had so enjoyed. Finally there came a metallic tone – even more metallic than usually through the speakers – the mech requesting entry apparently growing impatient, _"Megatron: online?"_

The Decepticon leader sighed, the grumbling sound answering the question. It took him few nanokliks to remember the voice command which opened the door to his quarters, and two more to switch the lights on. Optics half-online and desperately trying to recalibrate in the sudden rush of light, Megatron watched the dark blue form of his Communications Officer stepping into the room in his usual silent manner. The Decepticon leader realised he had some dignity to regain when Soundwave stopped in the middle of the floor, staring at him with a surprised non-expression.

A deep sigh later Megatron had his optics fully online and his upper body off the tabletop, sitting upright behind his desk. Something crumbled under his hand, little prickly shards sinking into the dark metal of his hand, and Megatron lifted his hand to see what had once been an empty cube of high-grade. The sight brought inklings of the last night's events to mind, but Soundwave cleared his vocaliser just in time to cut in between two half-formed thoughts. Megatron sighed. "Yes, Soundwave?"

"Note: Megatron wanted to discuss strategies."

Megatron frowned, trying to remember saying such a thing. Last night was a mess in his processor, but a part of the memory file about Shockwave's call and the miserable amount of energon the Decepticons on Earth now had left surfaced after a klik. Megatron shook his helm, standing up and regarding Soundwave with a tired glance. It seemed he had waken up only to be crushed by fatigue again. "I'll collect the needed material. You're dismissed, I will meet you in the Control Room in a breem."

"As you command, Megatron." The tape deck gave a slight nod, leaving the warlord to wake up and gather necessary datapads for a meeting he didn't even fully remember appointing.

Megatron sighed, turning to begin picking up datapads from the mess on his tabletop. His servos searched the disorganised heaps contently for a moment, before a slight frown crept onto his faceplates: he recalled his desk had been in neat order just yesterday. The mess of previously stacked items on his desk was excessively chaotic for one caused by him falling in recharge onto his table, too. Megatron shrugged it off after staring the mess for a klik, circling the desk just to notice a lone datapad laying on the floor. The sight finally brought up the rest of the warlord's slightly high grade-corrupted memory files from the last night; the silver mech slowly recollected his rage and the violent swing of his own arm that had sent the items on his desk flying. And much more.

"Starscream," Megatron hissed, and the sound held all of his sizzling, seething, burning hate towards the Seeker.

Frustration and anger from the last night came flooding into Megatron's processor, reminding him of every little and big manner in which Starscream had failed him. The memories about the itch of his Fusion Cannon and his desire to deactivate the Seeker came back. True, he had been over-energised, his fury fed by the high-grade in his systems, but even now he could see that there was a reason for his anger. He would have to get rid of Starscream and his endless incompetence.  
Megatron's jaw clenched, his optics narrowing to slits.

He bent to pick up the fallen datapad, placing it on his desk after confirming he wouldn't need it in the meeting with Soundwave. A deep sigh escaped him.

The gun-former's anger started to fade into frustration and tiredness. He knew Starscream deserved to be deactivated and he wanted to do it, but the thought of life without the Seeker's idiocy and rebellion still seemed somehow … empty. There would be mostly loyalty then; no sudden, thrilling fights with his favourite traitor, no indignant screeches, no delicious fear in the round, crimson optics. Megatron's jaw loosened and optics offlined for a moment, an uncharacteristic uncertainty about what he should do with the infuriating idiot welling in his CPU. He hated Starscream, truly hated, but...

...He would give the Seeker an Earth week to show one reason to spare his life. If he did not, it would end, in one way or another. Seven more solar cycles, no less and no more: the final chance.

As for now, Megatron needed to chase away the thoughts concerning his Second in Command. He had work to do.

The lights of the Control Room flickered on, revealing the quiet emptiness of the room. The whole Decepticon base seemed more peaceful than usual, actually, with most of the Decepticons out on an energon raid.

Starscream sat into a chair, taking his place in front of a monitor that switched on to reveal a bunch of mission reports to be filed. Starscream couldn't say that he enjoyed the task, but at least organising the reports was somewhat monotonic – it gave him a good chance to slip into his thoughts.

It was the second solar cycle after _the_ ordeal with Megatron, and the jet couldn't help but feel somewhat pleased with himself – it was not as if the bitter feelings had faded during that short amount of time, but Starscream had managed to keep them down, hidden them into his Spark. The outer world had only seen general annoyance, heard only his carefully constructed contemptuous tone and had no idea that inside him a turmoil of resentful, unanswered feelings reminded him of having no hope at all whenever he happened to stumble upon Megatron.

The bitterness would side after a while, Starscream knew that, but now it was still fresh and only half-controllable, which was why he did everything he could to anger Megatron. Seeing the silver mech's glares – the Seeker had been really scared a few times, the intense burn in his leader's optics a frustrated, dangerous one – reminded him of the hate between the two of them, the one Starscream himself couldn't yet fully feel. That would take time, maybe a week, and during that time the Seeker would just have to annoy Megatron as far as he could without provoking the silver mech to come too close; physical contact with the silver mech would be too much right now, his frame having been reminded of how good the silver Decepticon's touch could feel.

All in all, the last few solar cycles had been a success. Starscream had to admit himself that his trinemates had caught a glimpse of his hidden feelings yesterday, before they had left for the training session, but the two seemed to have forgotten about that slip soon, having been put through intense and merciless exercise. Starscream mentally cursed his purple trinemate for his cheekiness.

Speaking of the devil...

"Hey! 'Screamer!"

"Skywarp." The purple jet seemed to ignore the venom in Starscream's voice, the customary grin broad on the pale faceplates, even if there was some uncertainty visible in the teleporter. Skywarp seemed somehow cautious to annoy him, and Starscream knew it was because of his behaviour yesterday. His optics narrowed. He did not want the uncertainty – concern, as slight as it had to be – from Skywarp. He did not want his trinemates to think twice before insulting him. They were not supposed to care.

He glared at the purple jet, who finally spoke, "So you're here. Makes sense that Megs didn't want you to go on that energon raid. He's been quite ticked off with you lately, prolly didn't want to let you scrap up the whole mission with your incompetence."

Starscream rolled his optics, sarcasm dripping of his glossa as he answered, "Oh, is that true? I see he decided to leave you here, too."

The purple flier's frown shone confusion for a moment, before an angered flash to the red optics revealed that Skywarp's slow CPU had finally made sense of Starscream's words. "Hey! I'm not incompetent!"

The red Seeker snorted and turned back to his monitor. From behind his back the red jet could hear Skywarp's huff at being ignored, and he could not keep a superior smirk off his faceplates. With Skywarp present, different kinds of muttering were as close to silence as it ever got, but, being the purple fool's trineleader and Air Commander, Starscream had grown used to that noise pollution. It flowed past his audio receptors, allowing the red Seeker to return to his thoughts.

Some of Skywarp's words had been true, mostly the part about Starscream not being allowed to participate in the energon raid currently running.

The red Seeker grimaced, his thoughts straying to the briefing Megatron had held about the raid. Starscream had interrupted it with only few remarks, but his leader's optics had lighted up with far more rage than Starscream had expected. Megatron's final warning to Starscream, an enraged _"Shut up!" _accompanied with the menacing hum of a raised Fusion Cannon had startled the flier into silence, the freezing coldness of the tyrant's voice not near as surprising as the tired undertone the growl had had to it.

After the meeting, Megatron had stepped in front of Starscream when he had been about to go prepare for the mission, stopping the Seeker effectively. The silver mech had coldly announced that Starscream wouldn't be participating, the order in his tone unquestionable. Megatron's patience had been wearing visibly short, and the red flier hadn't wanted try it. Starscream had only sneered to inform that he didn't like to be left to file reports while others got to scrap Autobots, hissing out a mocking _"As you command, Megatron." _before marching out of the Command Centre.

Skywarp, having sat down by the monitor next to Starscream's at some point, let out a particularly bored whine about how much he hated monitor duty. The annoying sound wormed its way into the red Seeker's audio receptors, and Starscream sighed, realising he had let himself drift off into his thoughts. He felt almost thankful to the purple mech for shaking him out of depths of his CPU.

He'd better get his work done.

* * *

The Decepticon leader stepped into the Command Centre, a pile of datapads in his hand and countless thoughts about the upcoming mission swirling in his processor. He switched the lights on, his optics recalibrating to meet the familiar sight of the long table, the chairs by it and the large cabinets full of datapads: mission reports, maps, unused battle plans and such. Megatron set the datapads in his hands onto the table, footsteps clanging loudly as he walked to one of the cabinets to search for a mission report that could be useful when refining the strategy for today's mission.

The mission should be quick and simple, stealing an interesting piece of experimental fleshling weaponry. Soundwave had infiltrated the laboratory two days prior, retrieving all necessary information about the building and the numerous safety precautions – all of them useless against a Decepticon – meant to protect the prototype of the laser weapon. The weapon, naturally, seemed clumsy and ineffective to any advanced lifeform, but there were interesting details to it, and it could easily be improved into an actually useful device with some touches of Cybertronian fingers and tools. Revamping it would be considerably easier and less time-consuming than building a new weapon from a scratch, too.

The silver Decepticon smirked, soon done with the preparations of the strategical meeting, settling comfortably into his seat at the end of the table. The silence of the room was calming, Megatron's optics half-offlining to allow him wander into his thoughts.

And there went his calmness, the first thought the warlord's processor stumbled upon being one about Starscream.

It was the sixth morning, five solar cycles had passed. Five _l__ong _solar cycles filled with frustration – Megatron had thought it an act of generosity, giving Starscream a week's grace, but that uncharacteristic show of patience had only been rewarded with even more anger, hate and bitter tiredness. Starting from the day after the Seeker's 'punishment', Starscream had been even more of an insolent, infuriating glitch than usually, jumping at every chance to annoy Megatron. The last five solar cycles had been full of snarky comments, interrupting remarks and mocking screeches, every sound the fool had let out fuelling Megatron's desire to kill Starscream. What made everything harder and even more frustrating was the way Starscream had always stepped back just before the Decepticon leader had the chance to soothe some of his anger in the form of violence. A punch or kick would've had made it so much easier to regain the self-control Megatron had seemed to be missing ever since the encounter from six nights ago.

It didn't help at all that the energon raid of the second day had been a great success, the Decepticon Headquarters' energon storage filled to the brim with fresh, purple cubes. Starscream had not been involved in that raid in any way, a fact that served as a glaring demonstration of the Seeker's uselessness.

Every passing solar cycle had made Megatron's anger grow hotter and hotter. After millions of years – four millions in stasis lock, but still – of tolerating Starscream's stupidity, the silver Decepticon's patience was finally wearing thin. His rage was gathering for one lethal shot: deactivating the fool had started to seem more and more inevitable.

By the time Megatron had to leave his thoughts to start the meeting, it seemed more than that.

Starscream was nowhere in sight, and even if Megatron didn't really need his good-for-nothing Second's presence or derogatory comments, the fact that the Seeker dared to be late from something Megatron had arranged made the energon coursing in his energon lines turn into liquid, burning rage.

Starscream had been contently lazing off on his berth when a blip indicated that someone tried to reach him via his comm.-link. The one turned out to be Thundercracker, Starscream answering the call with extra contempt in his voice, _'What is it now?'_

_'You should be grateful that I even bother comming you. Drag your aft to the Command Centre. Megatron seems to be … waiting for you. Thundercracker out.'_  
Starscream snorted slightly, remembering the tactical meeting he was already a few kliks late from. The Seeker briefly wondered why his presence was required at all, his comments never listened to anyway.

Megatron would once again announce that he had invented a way to conquer the Universe or found a way to deactivate all of the Autobots for good, or come up with a way to do both at the same time, and no matter how many fully reasonable if a little arrogant comments Starscream would be able to interrupt his leader with, he would earn only a glare or a growl. Maybe even a kick or punch if Megatron's plan didn't require the Air Commander's well-being.  
And the megalomaniacal strategy? It wouldn't work.

Helm held high and wings imperiously spread, the Seeker left his quarters and marched the corridors leading to the Command Centre. His entrance earned quick recognising glances from the other Decepticons gathered in the room and an intense glare from Megatron, who the jet had apparently interrupted. Starscream took his seat in silence.

A sideways glance confirmed that Megatron had turned his attention back to the others, which gave Starscream an opportunity to quietly observe his leader. The silver mech seemed stern, the way his hand gestures sliced the air and harsh words rang in the room. Examining the burning optics and tenseness that radiated off the Decepticon leader, the Seeker realised that the upcoming mission for the fleshling technology would better be a success or someone – Starscream himself, most likely – would get slagged.

The jet let out a little puff of air in a quiet sigh; the further the silver mech went with reviewing the strategy, the surer Starscream grew that it would end in a massive failure. Finally it became too hard to stay quiet and listen to the details of the idiocy. "This plan is laughable! The laboratory is too close to the Autobot base, they'll attack us in matter of nanokliks."

Megatron's optics locked into his, the burning, murderous glare daring the Seeker to utter half a word more. The Decepticon leader's words were freezing when he answered, "Do not interrupt me, Starscream. I'm not in the mood for your endless stupidity. As I said, the Coneheads will monitor the surrounding area..."

Starscream leant back in his chair and closed his mouth, surprised and slightly unnerved by the coldness of Megatron's voice. Usually Starscream had to do more than give one little disrespectful comment to get the Decepticon leader that furious. The Seeker frowned and decided to keep quiet, even if he desperately wanted to inform his leader that there was little success to be expected with that kind of a sloppy plan. On the positive side, Starscream knew he could hardly be blamed when the Autobots would arrive to ruin the day. His warnings had not been listened to, after all.

"... It should be easy enough to chase away the humans, after which Soundwave and his Cassettes will take care of retrieving the prototype while others guard the laboratory..."

Starscream let the rest of the sentence as well as the remaining kliks of the meeting slip past his audio receptors, his gaze drawn to observe Megatron. The larger mech's narrowed optics were still blazing in anger or some resembling feeling, and Starscream found himself wondering the cause of the leader's visibly foul mood. Megatron had seemed strangely enraged for days now, even after the successful energon raid from a few solar cycles ago. It prodded at Starscream's curiosity – and evoked some fear in him. The flier found himself hoping that the mission would go smoothly, no matter how unlikely it seemed.

Starscream shook his processor clear from his slightly worried thoughts when his fellow Decepticons stood up, praised Megatron's strategy (that certainly hadn't been worth that many positive words) and got out of the room to start preparing themselves for the upcoming raid. The red Seeker hopped onto his pedes, ready to leave as well.

"Starscream. I have something to discuss with you."

The cold tone seeped into Starscream's circuits, freezing him from inside. The Seeker gulped, but raised up his chin and moved his hands to his hips instinctively, turning around once his outer appearance was under control and completely free of the panic that raced in his processor – 'something to discuss' was never good. It took him a while longer to get his vocaliser to function properly, but when he eventually answered his leader, there was no fearful squeak to his voice. Thank Primus.

"Yes, oh Mighty Megatron?" His tone and word choices had a sarcastic ring to them, but the jet assumed it was better to overact his supposed self-assured attitude than to let his fear show. The Air Commander desperately wanted to shrink before the larger mech's threatening presence but ended up doing the exact opposite; hiking up his wings and standing to his full height, a slightly arrogant smirk appearing onto his lips. Megatron's optics narrowed, and a sudden shift of the silver mech's cannon arm brought up a start Starscream couldn't prevent. The Seeker's gaze wandered to the black cannon, wariness awakening in his processor.

"For your own sake, you'd better not fail me today, fool. Your performance has been quite unsatisfactory as of late."

Starscream's arrogant appearance cracked, confusion and anxiety taking over his face as he watched the Decepticon leader pointing his Fusion Cannon at him menacingly before marching out of the door.

In the lone silence of the now empty Command Centre, the red Seeker could feel the intimidating words still lingering in the air, each indignantly emphasised word setting an inexplicable fear into his Spark.

* * *

A mess of rage stormed in Megatron's processor, making his dark fingers clench as if curling around someone's throat. The mech could feel his cannon arm shaking and hardly resisted the urge to shoot a hole through the wall to his right. The hallway was empty, there would've been no witnesses to his uncontrollable burst of anger, but he was still the leader which not only meant that the wall was his – he had no intention to harm his own property – but also that he had to control himself. He might have been known as a violent, short-tempered leader, but it didn't mean he could go wreaking random havoc in his own base.

Megatron gritted his dental plates hard, his optics narrowed and burning with anger.

That Starscream. That worthless little glitch.

The Decepticon leader had been so ready to just shoot the foolish piece of scrap after the idiot had decided to demonstrate his unworthiness by being late and making interruptive comments. It was as if the Seeker had known about Megatron's recent confusion – whether or not to kill the Air Commander – and been determined to show that the deadlier option was the better one.

Megatron had decided to forget everything about that one remaining day. The anger had flared too strong to control any longer.

The gun-former had yearned to see how Starscream would writhe and thrash, to hear how he would scream in pain with his colourful frame torn through by a blast of purple. Megatron had had his Fusion Cannon ready when the others left the room, considering shooting the jet in the back like Starscream had done to him so many times, but the desire to see the fear on the dark faceplates had teamed up with his pride, making him speak up to warn the jet.

It had still been his best intention to deactivate the fool when Starscream had turned around, but the self-assured look on the Seeker's face, the way his wings had spread behind him in defiance... Megatron's Spark gave the same kind of a peculiar pulse it had given at the time. Then the Air Commander had answered him in that contemptuous tone, his blue hands on his hips, and Megatron had found himself dumbfounded.

The Seeker's fear had been visible under his showy presentation of arrogance, a thin layer of insolence barely concealing it. The silver mech shouldn't have found it so alluring; Starscream should've been properly punished – killed – for his disrespectful attitude and recent displays of incompetence, but the visible fight between fear and pride on the dark face had been so enticing, the rebellious attitude making Megatron's Spark pulse hotter.

Starscream, no matter how cowardly a mech, was still the only one who dared to really stand against the Decepticon leader, despite all the times the Seeker had been beaten because of it. Megatron loved breaking his Second, but now he had to admit that he also enjoyed seeing the Seeker struggling to his pedes time after time, quickly building up his arrogance again and once more ready to disobey Megatron's rules. Ready to be punished again.

The silver mech fought to push his admiration for the Seeker's persistence down. He hated the red Seeker, and there was no questioning the intensity of that feeling, but after assuring himself of that proved harder and harder as his thoughts kept returning to the way Starscream's smirk had mocked his authority so delectably, Megatron settled for hating his processor for finding the jet's attitude – and, oh Primus, his smirking dark faceplates – so attractive.

Not shooting the wall turned out to be impossible, a smoking hole left in the metal. Megatron just hoped the mission wouldn't turn out as a failure, because then there would have to be a living – not for long – target in front of his cannon. Everyone knew who that target would be.

The week had been cut down to six days.


	4. Looming

**AN:** Thanks for the reviews!

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4. Looming

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The group of Decepticons left their base, visibly excited about the mission. Well, most of them were – the feeling that hung heavy and suffocating in Starscream's processor, however, was far from excitement: fear. The red Seeker flew, unusually silent, in front of his trine, Blitzwing and the Coneheads, following Megatron and Soundwave who were discussing some last details of their mission plan. Starscream could see his leader's anger beneath the concentration, and if the lump of dread had not already nested in his core, it would have done it by now.

The mission had to succeed. There was a little voice chanting in Starscream's processor that this time he could really die if it didn't.

Starscream gulped, the thought feeding his fear, and for once he was glad for the interruption that came in the form of his trinemates picking up speed to fly by his side. At least until Skywarp decided to say something.

_'You scared or what, Starscream? I'm starting to miss your shrieking,'_ the purple jet informed his trineleader through their trine-link, voice smug.

Starscream didn't answer at first, but the other Seeker didn't seem to buy that, keeping up with his speed and finally knocking their wingtips together. The impact wasn't hard enough to shake either of them out of course or to otherwise endanger their flight, but it was enough make Starscream contemplate transforming into his robot form just to glare at Skywarp. In the end, however, the Air Commander settled for a snappish, _'Shut up and concentrate on the mission. It'll be hard enough to succeed with morons like you as subordinates, but with Megatron's utterly idiotic plan it's virtually impossible. You fools better not fail me this time.'_

Starscream did not like the teleporter's laugh at all, and even less he liked the answer Skywarp gave, _'Yeah, or Megatron slags __**you**__, right?'_

Starscream disguised his flinch as a slight alteration to his course. The red jet hated it, but once again his black-and-purple trinemate managed to freeze his Spark with a surge of fear without even meaning to. The red Seeker wanted to lunge at Skywarp, to let his fear turn into annoyance and then get rid of both of the feelings with Null-ray fire targeted at the idiot, but then the deep words of their blue trinemate joined the conversation, making both red and purple Seeker concentrate on what lay ahead, _'Stop squabbling, you two. We're here.'_

* * *

The research laboratory was shaken out of its daily routine in the record time of five kliks, the cacophony of jet engines, laserfire and human screams changing into a victorious racket. The Coneheads flew in circles above the area, the rumble of their engines receding and nearing again in a regular rhythm, the rest of the Decepticons enjoying the wrecked scenery with optics and words full of smugness and boast.

There were only fliers participating on the mission – well, except for Soundwave, his Cassettes and Megatron himself – and while Decepticon leader had been slightly worried about their occasionally tricky natures, everything had gone smoothly so far. Soundwave and his creations were already inside the laboratory and almost done with the safety mechanisms, the Communications Officer's reports droning through Megatron's comm.-link continuously.

The mission seemed like a success already, and Megatron couldn't keep the satisfied smirk off his faceplates, no matter how many times he had been proven that everything could go wrong in the last astrosecond.

The hurried clacking of thruster-heeled footsteps made the Decepticon leader leave his thoughts to regard his Second in Command. The sight of the tri-coloured jet, his widened optics and slumped wings, made Megatron's frame stiffen. The meek tone of Starscream's voice was the second clue that the mission wouldn't be, or wasn't, running as it should, and the words the red Seeker presented – optics cast to the ground and his behaviour screaming panic – confirmed it all, "Lord Megatron! There are A-Autobots approaching us from the west."

The Seeker stood in front of him, so small and nearly trembling, and while Megatron would have normally stopped for a nanoklik or two to relish the rare occasion of actually having scared the jet with his threats, this time he could find nothing but rage from his CPU. His cannon twitched, and had it been for the battle against the Autobots ahead, the silver Decepticon would've shot at Starscream. He didn't need a reason to, not anymore.

Ramjet's agitated warning came over the general comm.-link three nanokliks later, _'The __Autobots are here, almost at the gate already!'_

_'Oh, you noticed? Attack them, you incompetent fools!'_ Megatron gritted his dental plates, his mood violently turning from satisfaction to anger, and swirled around to roar at the rest of his troops, "Decepticons! Autobots at the west gate! Attack!"

The Decepticons jumped into action, the Coneheads diving from the skies and the rest sprinting for the gate, all except for Soundwave and the Cassettes still inside the laboratory; and Megatron and the red Seeker cowering in front of him. The Decepticon leader glared at Starscream, and had no problem seeing that the jet was scared, scared for his life.

"What's the matter?" Megatron asked, the words soaked with hate, "Afraid of the fight?"

Starscream shook his helm, his crimson optics wide. The jet had clearly been waiting to be shot in the Spark right there and then.

"Go join it then, you fool!" Megatron bellowed, and there was no need for any further words, Starscream already gone with no backward glances and a panicked rumble of jet engines.

Megatron stood there for a fraction of nanoklik, teeth crunching against each other, then opened a comm.-link to scream a bunch of orders to Soundwave before snapping into action. His pedes pounded the ground violently as he took off to rush towards the sounds of gunfire and both Autobot and Decepticon-induced shouts.

The Decepticon leader joined the battle with frenzied blasts from his cannon, almost thankful for the Autobots' presence: they were targets he could fire without feeling the slightest hint of doubt or guilt or hesitation.

A blast of purple knocked out one of the Autobots twins, the next one hitting Jazz in the side, and then there was a new shot and another and Megatron didn't care who they hit or if they hit at all, as long as heat gathered into and then shot out of his cannon in an irregular, dangerous tempo.

A laser shot scratched his shoulder, harmless on itself, but enough to make the storm of rage in his processor escalate into a hurricane. The silver mech raised his cannon for a quick shot at a pack of Autobots, the act drawing his nemesis' attention to him.

Optimus charged him with the usual shouts – Megatron did not really pay attention – and they clashed together, trading hits like they had done so many times before. Prime's faceguard crunched under his fist, Megatron's arm drawing back for another punch that was stopped halfway, the Autobot leader's servo tight around his hand. Optimus' other fist pummelled into Megatron's abdomen, the vents there bent with screeches of metal. The Decepticon leader didn't let the flash of pain distract him from escaping the grip on his wrist, a fierce yank of his arm enough to get Prime's fingers off his plating. A swing of Megatron's heavy, cannon-equipped arm shook the Autobot leader out of balance, and the silver mech's powerful kick finished the job with force that sent the red and blue Autobot flying a good distance away.

Agitated rumble of jet engines distracted Megatron from shooting Prime.

"Megatron!" Starscream's high-pitched voice cut through the racket of shouts and screams and laserfire.

The call of his name in that one Primus-damned voice frequency had Megatron's fingers clenching in an uncontrollable and deadly manner, only lacking a certain jet-former's neck they could crush. He didn't answer or turn to face the Seeker.

"Megatron, we need to retreat!"

There was only fear in Starscream's words, no mocking undertone and even less open insults, but the sheer suggestion that Megatron's plan had failed, that he would have to call retreat, made him seethe. It was like someone had tried to gnaw away his pride and failed: it left Megatron's circuits hot with fury that could only be tamed with therapeutic violence.

The battle raging around him was barely of any importance now, but Megatron quickly charged his Fusion Cannon for an absent-minded shot targeted at Optimus Prime. The outcome of the shot did not matter, Megatron's attention once more shifting towards his Second in Command when yet another shrill scream tore through the air, this time full of fear-filled anger, "Aargh! Do I need to shoot you to make you listen? We're losing!"

Megatron sent a murderous glare in the general direction of the colourful jet before sparing a glance at his other soldiers, only to realise that the Seeker's observation about losing the fight had been correct. The Decepticon fliers were overpowered by the Autobots, the prototype weapon in enemy hands, Soundwave and his Cassettes occupied in keeping themselves safe from intense fire. They would all be scrap in a klik.

The mission had failed.

Some of Megatron's enraged heat evaporated into the cool air, leaving him with heavy, cold rage that would take lives with it once set free.

"Decepticons! Retreat!"

The Decepticon leader took to air, his soldiers following him with defeated mutters and sputtering engines. The Autobots' cheers reached his audios as the last proof that the mission was a perfect, utter failure, and then there was only one thought left in the warlord's processor.

Starscream would die. Megatron was going kill him when they reached the base.

The Decepticon leader would take Soundwave with him to make sure that the Seeker's treacherous Spark would extinguish and that his bright, flamboyant paint-job finally faded into lifeless grey.

* * *

Cool air rushed to meet his jet-form, but Starscream barely felt it through his fear. His well-being was at stake, the Seeker had known it ever since the warning Megatron had given him in the Command Centre before the mission, and now, with his optics drawn to the tenseness of the silver Decepticon's flying frame, Starscream's Spark tightened into a small sphere of pure dread. The Seeker wanted to turn tail and flee, but he knew Megatron would chase after him and eventually catch him, and then there would be no amount of begging to save his life with.

Below the flying Decepticons the rocky landscape gave way to the greenish blue of small, idle waves, their underwater base close. Reaching the familiar coordinates, they waited until the sea under them parted to reveal the tower of the Decepticon HQ. The sight made the red Seeker's fear turn into shudders that mercilessly ran through his frame, a part of him already knowing that entering the base would seal his destiny. Starscream transformed and landed, readying himself to sprint for his quarters to save himself from Megatron's wrath.

He was too slow. A crushing grip captured his shoulder, hard fingers digging into the metal.

Megatron's voice blared straight into his audio receptor, murderous, "Come with me, Starscream. There's a certain matter we need to _discuss_. Soundwave, follow us!"

* * *

The silver mech turned the jet around forcefully, scowling at his Second. His fingers let go of the Seeker's shoulder in order to grab one of the sleek white wings. Starscream went rigid, the wing shaking slightly in Megatron's grasp, but the Decepticon leader could not find the pleasure he usually did from his Second's fear. This was not about pleasure or sadism or Starscream anymore – the only reason the warlord was about to drag the Seeker into his quarters was to get rid of a thorn in his side. A thorn he had let annoy him for far too long.

The wing captured in Megatron's fingers gave another twitch, and this time he responded by giving it a strong yank. Starscream yelped.

"A-ah! Lord Megatron, please don't … I didn't mean to fail you, I promise, it wasn't - -"

"Silence," Megatron growled, and the Seeker obeyed, optics widened and whole frame trembling visibly.

Soundwave took his place behind Megatron's shoulder, quiet as ever, but clearly ready to go. The Decepticon leader snarled, casting Starscream one more glance to emphasise that he would accept no rebellious attempts, then turned around. Fingers still around the Seeker's wingtip, he dragged the Seeker along as he made his way towards the lift, Starscream's whines and whimpers comping the strained shaking of the wing in Megatron's grasp.

Soundwave reached to open the lift doors, stepping aside to let the two higher-ranking Decepticons enter first. Soon the telepath would be following straight after Megatron, the silver mech thought grimly, and a part of him found the idea of someone else than Starscream as his Second weird. It would be a change, a huge change. A change to better, of course, but that wasn't much asked. Soundwave was competent and enough of a coward to not even think about questioning Megatron's orders. Soundwave was loyal. Soundwave was … dull.

Megatron's growl of anger made both the Seeker and the Communications Officer flinch.

The lift doors started closing, leaving the rest of the Decepticon fliers on the flight deck snickering at Starscream's distress. Except for one, it seemed; a feeling of being stared at made Megatron turn to spare his troops one more glance, and his optics met with Thundercracker's, the blue flier's faceplates frowning in what could've been worry. The Decepticon leader raised an optical ridge, and the Seeker looked away. The lift doors closed just before Megatron's curiosity had time to stir, the small space and the three Decepticons inside it settling into tense silence.

There were only few floors between the flight deck and Megatron's quarters, but by the time they reached the end of their journey, Starscream had grown fidgety, his wing rattling in the silver mech's fingers. The doors opened with a whirr and bleeping sound signal, the three mechs stepping – or being dragged, in one case – out of the lift.

The empty hallway bade them welcome with dim lights and a heavy silence that soon broke into the echoes of their footsteps. Fifteen steps and lots of high-pitched, fearful whimpering later they stood in front of the door that marked the borderline between well-being and … not-so-well-being. For Starscream, of course – for Megatron the door to his quarters was the last thing keeping his anger and frustration in check. Once inside, they would hit over both him and the Seeker like a tidal wave. That wave would only be lethal for one of them, though. And Soundwave was just a shadow, there to witness the events of his own promotion and to make sure nothing went wrong.

Megatron let go of Starscream's wing, observing the Seeker's immediate cringe with angry optics. "You won't try anything."

Starscream shook his helm frantically, his voice a squeak of panic when he answered, "I … I w-won't take a step unless you want me to. I … Lord Megatron … please…"

Megatron turned away from Starscream, saying nothing. He reached the door with one long stride, starting to punch in the correct code far more forcefully than necessary.

The door opened, agonisingly slow.

"Enter, Starscream."


	5. Shake The Silence

**AN:** Thanks for the reviews for the previous chapters!

I hope you enjoy!

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**5. Shake the Silence**

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Starscream stepped into the familiar quarters, fear freezing his Spark. Behind him Megatron followed, and the Seeker could almost feel the murderous rage pouring off the powerful mech, his leader's heavy pedes rattling the floor.

The darkness swallowed the two mechs – three, Soundwave stepped in, reminding of himself by closing the door. Most light vanished from the room, leaving Starscream standing petrified where he was, panic pulsing in his fuel lines and prickling him into hypersensitivity. Little gusts of air – from Megatron's vents, the tyrant was growing hot with rage behind the Seeker – brushed over Starscream's frame, warm against his plating.

"I told you to not fail me, Starscream, didn't I?"

Megatron's words rang calmly, nearly soft, in the tense air, and the Seeker's protests (it had been the Coneheads who had failed to guard the surroundings of the laboratory, not him) died onto his lips. The tone of the gun-former's voice was too silky, too calm, too malicious. It curled around Starscream's processor as a suffocating grip of fear.

"L-lord Megatron - -!"

The jet barely got the shaky, thin whine of his leader's name out before the mech turned him around and slammed him against the closest wall in one swift movement, a black servo crushing the jet's neck. Megatron's next words were spat straight onto Starscream's faceplates, every syllable hot with rage, "I told you, and still you thought you could just… fail me! You… You… Did you do that on purpose, you infuriating glitch?"

Starscream gave a startled, helpless struggle, optics locked onto the most powerful source of light in the dark room: Megatron's optics. The tyrant seemed to have lost most of his vocabulary to rage by now, but what his words couldn't tell was made clear by the growling tone of his voice and vice-like grip around the jet's throat.

"So you thought I wasn't serious when I warned you? That you could fail me once more?" Megatron leant close, words a hissing whisper so full of hate that Starscream knew what his leader was about to say even before his CPU registered the words, "Not this time, Starscream. This time you die."

The Seeker's Spark pulsed wildly in terror, his processor running at incredible speeds to make a decision: whether to try to struggle out of the situation or to beg for mercy. The latter seemed safer in all ways; with Megatron that angered already, Starscream did not want to risk his life any further. But then, as if to mock the jet's decision, the servo around his neck-cables tightened, crushing the delicate mechanics of his vocaliser. The frantic _"Please forgive me, Lord Megatron!"_ came out as an unrecognisable gurgle and a burst of static.

The barrel of Megatron's Fusion Cannon slowly lined itself with Starscream's cockpit and the Spark pulsing beneath it, the silver mech's movements terrifyingly calm, slow. There was no sign of uncontrollable heat of rage, only lethal hate and determination on Megatron's face, and Starscream understood it now: He would die, really die.

Megatron had decided to deactivate him, had prepared for this.

Unable to tear his gaze off the cold fire in his leader's optics, the Seeker started to tremble, his wings rattling against the wall behind his back.

A metallic chuckle tore Starscream's attention from Megatron, his optics straying to side to remind him of Soundwave's presence. The Communications Officer stood a safe distance away, his visor glowing a mocking red. Smugness radiated off the dark mech's frame, and the Seeker knew the reason for it, too. Soundwave would be promoted to the Decepticon Second in Command once Starscream was out of picture. The Seeker could not recall the telepath ever showing any desire for the position, but Soundwave certainly didn't seem to mind the idea now.

A harsh slap to his cheek brought Starscream back to the reality consisting of Megatron, strangling fear and the thought that he would die. Megatron's voice was as malicious as before, "Daydreaming at a moment like this, Starscream?"

He would die. His Spark be extinguished. He …

… He didn't want to be deactivated. Not today, not ever.

The charging Fusion Cannon blew warmth onto his faceplates.

"**No!**"

The movement never registered in Starscream's panic-mingled processor, but the next thing he knew was the violent impact of one of his heeled pedes and Megatron's thigh, pain pulsing up his leg from his crushed thruster-heel.

* * *

The impact came sudden, unpredictable, leaving Megatron's dented thigh throbbing with hot pain. The warlord stumbled, balance lost, his fingers still curled tight around Starscream's neck-cables. The feeling of floor disappearing from under his pedes was not nearly as surprising as the feeling of a Seeker frame following his backwards fall. The missing floor was found quickly, Megatron's back meeting it with force that shook his processor and rattled his optics offline. He barely had time to register his horizontal position before Starscream's full weight came crashing onto his front, pulled there by his hand that finally unlatched from the Seeker's neck.

Megatron grunted, trying to clear his CPU from this second impact. Warning messages started blipping in front of his optics, but the whirr of charging weapons and the sound of an uncertain step made Megatron's attention turn to the outer world, his optics readjusting to the darkness of his quarters to meet the sight of Soundwave – the dark blue mech seemed tense, ready for action – out of his optic corner, then registering two objects much closer to him. Starscream's Null-ray guns, pointed at his face. The weight on his abdomen and hip region told the rest of the story, all the details he couldn't see from his position on the floor: the Seeker was straddling him, looming over his frame. Ready to offline him.

He wasn't about to let that happen. Megatron's sudden movement resulted in a bunch of new warning messages and systems reports jumping up behind his optics, but right now they didn't matter. What mattered was the feeling of thin metal bending in his grip and the shriek of pain his actions tore from Starscream. Megatron had just got the first threat removed, one Null-ray crushed in his fist, when the other fired. The blast of pinkish purple flashed in front of the gun-former's optics, his helm jerking to side, efficiently if coincidentally dodging the shot that left a little black mark onto the floor and the silver mech's optics momentarily offlined.

Megatron's servo shot out blindly, finding the rifle where his wildly flickering optics had seen it a nanoklik ago, and yanked hard. The gun clattered onto the floor, detached. Starscream screamed in pain again and Megatron seized the moment, pushing and kicking himself off the floor, reversing their positions.

His optics came back online to fall upon the sight of a disarmed, scared Starscream. It was the bewildered Seeker's turn to blink in surprise, Megatron's servos quickly finding their way to the grey neck-cables while the jet under him was still too dazed to fight back.

"You never learnt that struggling only gets you into bigger trouble, did you?" Starscream's optics widened, his lips parting, but Megatron did not give him a chance to answer, tightening his grip on the jet's throat and leaning closer to whisper, "I'm almost disappointed in you."

It was an understatement. The bitterness swimming in Megatron's processor was much more than 'almost' disappointment, and added to it were anger and frustration, caused by his unreasonable admi … attraction – it would've been foolish to deny that at this point – towards Starscream. Because a part of him _still _wanted to spare the Seeker's life, even after the lust sparked aeons ago had burnt with a weak, unfed flame for so long, only a scant memory of the inferno of passion that had once lit it. If his lust had had a reason to still exist, maybe then he would've let Starscream continue to function just for it. Only maybe. As it was, the attraction was just a weakness. Megatron despised weakness.

The Decepticon leader left his thoughts with a surprised grunt; Starscream seemed to know opportunity when he was presented it, the silver mech's brief lapse into his thoughts ended with a fierce wriggle and bright blue fist nearly slamming into his faceplates. The Decepticon leader was quick to react, though, his servos on the Seeker's neck pushing the jet back onto the floor. Starscream groaned, but his arms lashed out again, clawing for the Megatron's face. Something had to be done about the flailing limbs, clearly. Megatron let one of his hands go of the dark neck, hunting down one blue, squirmy wrist at a time, then slamming them onto the floor above Starscream's head, between the long shoulder-vents. It took some effort to keep them there, but tightening the now one-handed grip on Starscream's throat helped, the gurgling Seeker soon pinned under Megatron, slender arms held by one black servo.

"Lets see how you struggle now, Seeker."

Starscream answered with another attempt to wriggle Megatron off him, the red and white frame scraping against the silver Decepticon's. Their hips ground together violently – red paintstreaks were left to mar Megatron's plating, undoubtedly –, accompanied by the screech that Starscream's cockpit glass gave when it made contact with the silver Decepticon's front. There was a brief flash of _something_ on the dark faceplates, then, but it was gone before Megatron could name it as any emotion he knew.

"Get off me!"

Megatron answered the hot fury on Starscream's pretty little snarl with a growl of his own. The jet tried to buck his hips, renewed friction between red and black hip plating hard until it suddenly vanished, gone with a gasp-like groan from the Seeker. Megatron could feel heat lingering on the plating of his abdomen and hips, Starscream's frame growing strangely hot under him.

He drowned his curiosity the moment it dared to peak; he was here to deactivate the Seeker. He might have given into the temptation of one last scuffle with Starscream, but this would still end in one extinguished Spark and a pile of colourful spare parts. Nothing else mattered.

Megatron tightened his grip on the blue wrists and leant down, closer to the dark face, his voice a growling whisper, "Struggling will not spare your worthless Spark. Accept it, Starscream."

* * *

The inane urge to close the little remaining distance between his and Megatron's lip components was what finally shook Starscream awake to realise that his body was reacting to the situation in a most inappropriate way. His frame burnt under the unrelenting weight of the silver mech, his plating scorching hot wherever Megatron had touched it, tingles of pleasure freely running in his body.

It made no sense. It made no sense at all, but repeating that did not stop or even slow down the steady increasing of Starscream's core temperature. Neither did it make the situation sensible in any way – he was about to die, to cease to exist … and he was _aroused._ By simple closeness; simple, dangerous closeness that was the very thing threatening his life.

Megatron moved a bit, tightening his grip on Starscream's pinned wrists, and the Seeker had to admit that the closeness was also quite … intimate; the way Megatron's hips rubbed against his when the tyrant shifted, the way the silver mech leant over him like a predator over his prey, looming. Starscream's Spark gave a little pulse, the cold grip of fear slowly eaten away by the aroused heat growing in his core.

There came a confused, monotonic noise, a welcome distraction. Starscream had almost completely forgotten about their witness during the heated fight. The Seeker's optics turned to meet the telepath's red visor for an astrosecond, and he could have sworn that Soundwave seemed somehow malevolent despite his obvious confusion.

Megatron's wordless growl locked Starscream's optics once more onto his leader's, and any thought about Soundwave was quickly gone.

The tyrant's harsh hand unlatched from around the Seeker's throat without a warning, and for a moment Starscream found the proper fear from his processor, the cannon-mounted arm moving to point at his chest again. He tried to jerk away but all he gained with it was Megatron stumbling out of balance for a fraction of nanoklik. The silver mech grunted, his Fusion Cannon removed from the Seeker's face when the tyrant slammed his hand onto the floor to regain control over his equilibrium chip.

At least, it should've been the floor. What the dark servo ended up on, however, was Starscream's wing. His sensitive wing, that shivered uncontrollably under the contact, and the hot feeling shooting up its length was not pain but pleasure of the kind that washed away all self-control and restraint.

Starscream did not know if the sound forming on his vocaliser had been a beg for his life or a groan of (dis)pleasure or something else, but when it pushed past his lips, it was a shaky, hitching, heated, _passionate_ _moan._

* * *

The whole mudball planet stopped spinning around its axle, waiting for someone to turn on the time again.

Megatron could only stare at his Second, his face reflecting the shocked blankness of his mind. Their faceplates close to each other's, Megatron could still feel the little sound on his plating and processor, the warmth it had sent straight into his body. His lips tingled, poised just centimetres above Starscream's dark ones. Suddenly the silver mech's Spark constricted, and it was far from an unpleasant feeling.

The moment was disrupted by an awkward, metal-tinged sound. Megatron's optics left Starscream's for a moment, his gaze wandering up the navy blue frame a few metres from them, Soundwave's red visor peeking down at the two on the floor in surprisingly expressive curiosity. Megatron's optics narrowed.

"Soundwave. Out," his vocaliser said, the urgent words never formed in his mind. The blue mech gave a hesitant nod before he exited, the door closing swiftly after him. Megatron's attention shifted immediately back to the Seeker once the telepathic presence of the Communications Officer vanished, the silver mech's thoughts breaking free again.

The Decepticon leader ran his optics up and down the Seeker's frame, unable to not enjoy the sight: blue wrists still pinned in his servo and the red-and-white body twisted under him, one pale, twitching wing trapped under Megatron's other hand. Starscream's optics had flown wide, his hot frame grown still as if the moan from klik ago had come as a surprise to him, too. Megatron was unsure if he should believe that. He… He did not know what to believe, but one thing was for sure:

Starscream had survived once again.

Megatron knew it was a mistake, letting the jet live. Knew that Starscream would fail him again tomorrow, the day after that and all the following solar cycles; that the jet would try to shoot him in the back and attempt to take over as the new leader of the Decepticons; keep on shrieking his idiocy time after time. Megatron knew that he would hate and threaten Starscream again and again, raise his Fusion Cannon only to never shoot that final blast – and maybe a part of him wanted to keep that routine.

He had come closer to killing Starscream than ever, and still the Seeker was there, alive, lips parted after a little, confusing, beautiful moan.

For all of his hate and anger and better knowledge, the Decepticon leader couldn't bring himself to kill the Seeker after hearing that sound. It had been too perfect, too … All what he wanted from Starscream. The strange little sound clung to Megatron's plating, and it was not the fearful and begging stutter that had saved Starscream's life, but the hot, breathy, _passionate _tone of the Seeker's whining, high-pitched voice. With one trembling non-word, Starscream had stroked both Megatron's ego – it had been made clear that the jet feared him and his power – and his lust. Especially his lust.

The formerly simple situation had twisted into something so complicated. The cold hate that had urged Megatron to kill the Seeker was gone, drowned by millions of questions like _"what should I do?"_, _"why didn't I kill him when I had the chance?"_ and such. A part of Megatron growled to him that he should get himself together and shoot Starscream; another told him to back away to clear his processor; and then there was the sly little whisper that tried to persuade him to crush Starscream further against the floor and ravage the tri-coloured body. Let his hands wander and explore, maybe bring up a new moan like that in the process? A moan of his name, if possible?

The lust tried hard, but in the end Megatron's self-control won, making him let the delicate wrists free. He stood up as imperiously as he managed – Starscream's wing twitched under his hand when he leant on it, warm against his palm – and turned around, trying not to notice how he could still feel the heat of Starscream's body on his armour.

The gun-former's Spark was fluttering excitedly, sending his desire swirling through his systems with every pulse, and Megatron knew he had to get as far as he could from the damned, useless, _alluring_ Seeker. Three strictly-controlled steps later he was staring at a dark wall, the wall staring back and refusing to help the warlord in sorting out the confusion and turmoil of feelings dancing in his processor and doing even less to the heat of lust spreading through Megatron's circuits. He could hear Starscream's vents and fans working desperately, that frantic sound the only thing interrupting the reigning silence.

A quiet klik stretched into two and then three and nothing happened. Starscream did not leave or even stand up from the floor, and Megatron kept his gaze locked in the wall. Only tension build in the room, until the silver mech decided that he needed privacy. A nanoklik more of staring the wall while wanting to stare – and more – at Starscream, and he would go insane.

"Get out."

It wasn't a growl. It wasn't even an order. It was a statement, said in a faraway tone, but it resulted in a hurried scramble of movement and the sound of the door 'whooshing' open and close.

The clacking sound of Starscream's panicked, hurried sprint down the hallway reached Megatron's audio receptors even through the heavy door.

* * *

The lift moved slowly, too slowly, and the Seeker was out of it the astrosecond the doors opened.

Starscream rushed towards his quarters, stumbling every other step, jet heels slipping on the smooth floors of the Decepticon Headquarters' corridors. He passed a few mechs on his mindless race for a safe place – his room – but he paid no mind to the bewildered glances thrown at his direction by the Constructicons, or the _"What's the rush, 'Screamer?"_ that was left echoing in the hallway after he rushed past Blitzwing and Astrotrain. There was only one thought pounding in his processor, a thought that hurried his pace: was Megatron following? He could hear them, his leader's heavy footsteps behind him, close, reaching him; could imagine how Megatron would …

… he did not know what.

Starscream had no idea what the silver mech would do, and that was why he had to get away _now_ – the only unpredictable thing about Megatron was, or should have been, his flaring temper and violent outbursts, yet Starscream had observed how Megatron's anger had just evaporated, and that was more unnerving than having the tyrant's black cannon gathering heat in front of his faceplates.

Starscream finally came to a halt when he slammed against his door, the impact rattling him half-awake from his panic. He took a few nanokliks to calm down a bit before opening the door, sinking onto the floor once his panic started to give way to pure, confused fear.

The door slid close somewhere behind him, quiet.

* * *

The dark solitude of his quarters did not have answers to the questions Megatron had, offered him no "why".

He had not killed Starscream. The Decepticon leader was not sure if he should have, or if he wanted to, his thoughts an disorganised heap of invalid reasons and illogical facts and unbound desires. He did not _know_, but what he wanted was made painfully obvious by his leaping Spark as well as the fire that spread from his core to his fingertips and flowed down his body, consuming every part of him.

He wanted Starscream. Pit, how much he wanted Starscream.


	6. Meddling

**AN: **Thanks for the reviews!

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* * *

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6. Meddling

* * *

Starscream sat at his desk, leaning his face against one bright blue arm, processor refusing to make sense of the strange events of yesterday.

Fear had attacked Starscream the moment the mission had gone awry, had frozen him under the strong grip on his wing that had trapped him when he had reached the Decepticon base. The Seeker had feared he would die when Megatron had dragged into his quarters, and been sure of his awaiting deactivation when his leader had charged his cannon, only to leave that dark room and its threatening owner behind a breem and little slip of his vocaliser later. With only minor damage to his neck and thruster-heel.

Starscream had spent last night and half of this morning repairing said damage and mulling over his thoughts.

The thought that he had revealed his one of his biggest secrets had been torturing him constantly, his mind returning to that wretched sound that had escaped his lips in all of its hitching, choking, pleading glory. That slip of his vocaliser – the moan Starscream had managed to restrain during all of the numerous one-sided interface encounters with the silver mech – had been infallibly heated, and a hopeless part of the Seeker's processor kept telling him that it had undoubtedly revealed everything about his attraction to Megatron. His rationality objected, though, screaming that even Megatron's logic wasn't twisted enough to form such conclusions, especially because it had been during a fight Starscream had made that time-stopping sound. The moan that had seemed to have saved his life, even if he didn't know why.

To be honest, Starscream only knew that he did not know. Anything.

A knock on the door cut the thought of avoiding Megatron for as long as possible before the jet could realise that such an action would not help him to solve the problem of not knowing what the silver mech was planning or thinking. The red Seeker scowled at the door, sitting up in his chair and slipping into the annoyance his fear and confusion and uncertainty easily turned into.

"Are you there? Starscream?"

The voice came a little muffled, but the Decepticon Air Commander had heard it often enough to have no trouble identifying it as Thundercracker's. Starscream did not answer, remaining silent even when the locking mechanism of his door started blipping and blipping and _blipping_, a different voice finally exclaiming, "Hey! You changed the code!"

Starscream snorted. Oh yes he had. It had actually been one of the first things he had done yesterday after reaching his room, an attempt to keep his leader away from his personal quarters. Now that his panic had faded during the night, Starscream realised that Megatron naturally had override codes for every single lock in the base, but at least the precaution seemed to keep nosy trinemates from interrupting him. Even if a distraction probably wouldn't have hurt, because he had spent a night and half a morning realising that he still had no idea about anything.

"Slaggit Starscream! Are you there? Are you okay? How bad Megatron slagged you last night? Hello?"

"Shut up 'Warp. Let's - - **What are you doing!**"

The red Seeker remembered the reason for the "warp" part of Skywarp's name a little too late, his quarters momentarily lit up by a purple flash. Wings tense and optics narrowed, Starscream turned around in his chair, taking in the sight of his trinemates standing in front of him. "What do you think you're doing? Get out!"

"Huh, nice to see you too!" Skywarp's words were sharp with indignation, the purple-striped wings perked to reflect the agitation visible in the flaring of his red optics.

"Where were you two joors ago?"

Starscream frowned, a snarl curling his lips. "What are you talking about?"

Skywarp's optics narrowed into two red slits, his thruster-heel clacking on the floor under a furious stomp. He turned to Thundercracker with an expression of anger on his faceplates, "See? We really should ask for a new trineleader!"

"Calm down, 'Warp. He just missed one patrol flight… And you're not known to be that dutiful, either."

"I don't care! He's been a major glitch lately. Bitching and screaming and being a fragger. I hate him! I … I want a new trineleader!"

"Shut up, you two!" Starscream's slightly sleepy temper finally flared at the insults and he bolted up from his seat, taking a menacing step closer to his trinemates.

To his great surprise, neither of the two answered him with any kind of a retort. Actually, they had fallen quite silent, two pairs of widened optics staring at Starscream's lower body. The red Seeker flinched, reluctant to look down at first, but finally stealing a quick glance.

Black paint-streaks. Staining his red-and-white paintjob.

There was a moment of silence, three times two optical sensors remaining fixed onto Starscream's pelvic plating, and then, finally, a quiet, unsure mumble from Thundercracker, "Uh… So you and Megatron… like… yesterday, in his quarters..?"

Starscream's gaze darted up to meet the blue Seeker's, his optics wide and faceplates shocked. "**No!**"

Another outstretched pause took over the Decepticon Air Commander's quarters, the air growing awkward and tense.

"It's nothing like… _that_," Starscream finally added, optics cast to ground, trying to decide if he should feel angry for his trinemates' prying or miserable because of the truth he had just said or just plain tired because of everything. The last one was the feeling that flowed into his processor most easily, the fear and stress and uncertainty from yesterday having strained his systems.

The red Seeker sighed, and the heavy sound seemed to shake Skywarp awake, the purple jet's words unusually quiet and somehow soft, "You okay, 'Screamy?"

The Air Commander glanced up again, meeting concern in his wingmates' crimson optics. His Spark tightened, a heavy lump weighing his vocaliser. It was ridiculous, really, how it was always either his two fellow Seekers or Megatron who managed to make him feel this miserable – the ones that cared for him and the one that he would have wanted to care for him (though in a different, far more intimate manner).

"It's nothing. Go away," Starscream said, his voice was much too thick and quiet for his massive ego's liking.

The two turned around, heading for the door, and Starscream sank back into his seat, whirling around to rest his helm in his hand.

The door closed behind the two other Seeker's, but a set of soft words was just quick enough to slip into Starscream's quarters.

"_You know, we could help."_

Starscream needed to recharge. His sudden urge to call back his trinemates and the compassion they had offered had to be caused by his tiredness, because he was not weak and needed no-one.

* * *

The datapads were in a neat stack, exactly how and where they had been a joor ago. Megatron's attention was… elsewhere, which mostly meant a certain tri-coloured jet-former. Said subject had been in his thoughts so often since last night that it was rather inhabiting than visiting his processor at this point.

"Starscream," the silver mech whispered to himself, and there was no answer but the content purr of his systems and the whirring of his cooling fans. His body's response to the name was immediate because the name was connected with a beautiful, brightly coloured Seeker and his slightly flawed vocaliser that was able to reach pitches high enough to hurt one's audio receptors. The same vocaliser that had proven to be able to form a most beautiful sound yesterday; a sound that still clung to Megatron's processor, the mere memory making him grow hot with an aroused charge building in his systems.

He wanted Starscream so bad, and while that had been quite obvious for at least half a solar cycle already, the silver mech still had not figured out what he should do about it. He could not tear his mind off Starscream's moan, the strained, hot perfection of it, and it brought back to his CPU another memory of such passion in Starscream's voice. That had been so many million stellar cycles ago – even if the majority of them had been spent in stasis lock –, but Megatron could remember it all so clearly.

That solar cycle had been particularly stressful, full of angered shouts and his fists pummelling into Starscream's face. Nothing too extraordinary, one of those beatings that had probably left the young Air Commander's pride more hurt than his body.

The day had seemed to been doomed to be a very frustrating one, at least until the silver mech's optics had caught Starscream's tri-coloured form in the mess hall later in the evening, dents still decorating the colourful frame, empty cubes of high-grade on the table on which the Seeker had been leaning. Megatron did not know what had made him walk up to Starscream then, but that pointless decision had resulted in lots of seductively slurring, high-pitched words. Which, in turn, had resulted in a very pleasing if a little strange interface session between the Decepticon leader and his young Second, and a massive overload for the both mechs. It had been as if something big had occurred, a major turning point in their insult-filled coexistence, and Megatron had been left waiting for the next time, absolutely certain that it would come soon.

It had not, and when it had finally become too hard to look at his Air Commander and Second in Command without wanting to 'face the pretty Seeker senseless, Megatron had swallowed his pride and called Starscream to his quarters. He had never expected to be rejected, or that Starscream's disbelieving, furious _"Are you out of your mind? Why would I want to - -" _would have sent such a bolt of hurt anger through him, but that short encounter had ended with Starscream being carried out of his quarters with a still-smoking addition of a new air passage through his chassis.

After that… Well, their encounters had continued, irregularly, but Starscream had not shown such passion or any participation at all again. After way too many vorns of giving the Seeker one more chances, Megatron had almost got rid of his lust. Almost got Starscream finally killed yesterday, only to find himself shocked at the abrupt comeback of the jet's once-heard passionate tone in the most unlikely of situations.

Megatron shook his helm, grabbing a datapad but never reading its contents, just staring at the small item. After the first time he had waited for Starscream to do something, to come begging for more and as the vorns and vorns of frustration had proven, it had never resulted in anything the Decepticon leader would have wanted it to result in.

Megatron would not wait for Starscream this time. Not when he had finally found a possible reason to keep the idiot around (because he really, really wanted to, after yesterday evening). This time, he would _make_ the Seeker moan for him again. And preferably do more than that, too. He would find a way, and the search for it would start tomorrow.

He needed a plan.

The Decepticon leader's Spark leapt in hot excitement, and if there had been a witness to the sly smirk spreading on the silver lips, he would've immediately known just what kind of thoughts were forming in Megatron's mind.

Tomorrow.

* * *

"Warning: energy levels nearing critical."

The message flashed to life behind his offlined optics, shaking Starscream awake from deep recharge. The red Seeker blinked, once, twice, and groggily lifted his helm to realise that the hard surface under his cheek had been his own desk. The sight made him blink again, his processor slow and muddy, even if there was a feeling of everything not being right swimming within the heavy mass. The jet frowned.

He sat up in his chair, running a systems check – he was low on energy but otherwise in top condition – and trying to gather his thoughts. They kept slipping from him, his tries to remember why he had been recharging on his desk for almost a full solar cycle seemingly useless.

At least, until he thought of Megatron: the name brought everything about the last days back in one swift blow. Starscream flinched, fear and anxiety and annoyance whistling through him much too quickly for him to decide which one he should clung onto. They settled into his CPU as an overall unpleasant, restless mess.

He still knew nothing about anything that had to do with Megatron. When the warning message about his energy levels came back, however, Starscream decided that he had to re-energise, soon. He had planned on staying in his quarters for quite some time, but the problem of not having a personal energon dispenser now reminded of its existence. Starscream would have to go to the mess hall, even if there was the possibility of crashing into Megatron on the way.

Starscream remembered the undesired paint-streaks on his frame just in time, doing a quick cleaning job with the supplies he could find. The scratches remained, but at least the much-too-informative black paint was gone from his chassis.

Starscream shook his helm and stood up, legs a little weak due to his lack of energy, and left his quarters without remembering to raise up his wings or nose. He made his way to the mess hall, completely ignoring his fellow Decepticons, but not with his usual showy disregard.

Starscream had never shown up for his morning shift. Megatron frowned, staring at the monitor and the chair and the lack of a tri-coloured frame and muttered remarks about the dullness of monitor duty. The undone work was not the reason for his annoyance, the Decepticon leader could have Soundwave do it later, but the missing Seeker was. Megatron had had plans for this morning, ones involving slow, careful observation and maybe some physical contact – there were no other mechs at the Control Room at this time, and the opportunity had seemed almost too good.

* * *

Megatron shook his helm, annoyed and disappointed, even if the lustful excitement still bounced about his CPU, insistent on repeating that now he would have a good opportunity and reason to search and approach the Seeker. The chance that Starscream could be in his quarters made his core burst alive with anticipation – even more privacy and a berth. The part of his processor dearly dangling on his rationality tried to remind him that a real interfacewas maybe a little too much to hope for at this point, but Megatron decided to complete his paperwork later and go to search for the Seeker now, anyway.

He left the Control Room with a little too much cheeriness in his steps and way too much disregard to his duties as the leader – but this was about Starscream now, about shrill voice and pearl-white legs, about flamboyant red and broad, lively wings.

* * *

His journey to the mess hall had went surprisingly well, no-one had tried to interrupt or make contact with him so far, and that was how Starscream wanted the things to be at the moment. Now, with an energon cube in subspace and his quick steps leading him back towards his quarters, the red Seeker felt almost at ease, hurrying his pace to get to the privacy of his quarters faster.

The hallways seemed rather empty, most of the other Decepticons probably fulfilling their duties. Starscream had remembered his own morning shift a bit too late, as in just now, but he hoped Megatron would not decide to punish him for that. Not now, at least – Starscream's processor was enough of a mess already, and his body could have … reacted if he had actually met his leader. He could still remember some ghost-like memories of sensations from their latest fight dancing on his frame, and the problem was that they did not remind him of a scuffle, but of something else. Something … much more intimate, which was not only stupid, but hopeless too. Not to mention that it _aroused_ him far more than it should have.

Starscream sighed, offlining his optics as he stopped for a nanoklik. He had kept his thoughts off of Megatron this far, but now the subject seemed to finally crash onto him, all the memories of feelings and closeness and unlikely reactions from the last solar cycles.

The Seeker was just about to continue on his way when a metallic chuckle from behind stopped him cold. Starscream did not turn around, standing there with his swiftly-tensing frame.

"Starscream: desires Megatron."

Soundwave was not supposed to have a tone of voice, but it wasn't monotony that made Starscream whirl around with fear very visible on his face. The malignant, smug tone of the Communications Officer was terrifying and the following burst of cold, unnatural laughter shook awake panic in Starscream's body. The telepath's statement had come out of nowhere, totally unexpected, but it had been correct – which pretty much was the problem.

"What do you want?" Starscream snapped, his optics quickly narrowing from their previous widened state, even if his shriek was a touch too quick, high and panicked. The concept of shooting Soundwave crept into the Seeker's processor, only to be proven reckless when the telepath rose his own rifle, shaking his helm in a chiding manner.

"Fact: Soundwave could inform Megatron or other Decepticons. Ruin Starscream's reputation."

"What!" the shriek ripped free from his vocaliser before Starscream had time to realise that showing his agitation was not a good idea.

Soundwave chuckled again, the malicious sound one of the most eerie sounds Starscream had ever heard.

"Are trying to blackmail me? What do you want!" The Seeker's pitch had risen to a thin, panicky one. Starscream took a step backwards, his wings and back meeting the wall behind him. He suddenly realised just how trapped he was when Soundwave took a step closer, guarded face and unreadable visor way too close for comfort.

"Truth: Soundwave wants Starscream to - -"

"_Starscream._"

Their "conversation" was rudely interrupted by a cold, rough voice that made Starscream's helm snap up violently and his processor stall at this new, freezing shock.

* * *

The warlord could only stare at the scene taking place in front of him, a hot surge of rage shooting out from his Spark. He had never expected to meet such a sight, Megatron had planned to meet Starscream in his quarters, not in the corridor just outside them, and he certainly had not thought about the possibility of a third Decepticon being present.

And then there was the biggest mistake in the picture, the one detail that made Megatron's energon reach boiling point: Soundwave was too close. Much too close to Starscream and his pretty, sleek frame – Megatron had no clue how to explain the fury that the sight evoked, but there was no controlling the stormy feeling. Somewhere from the heated depths of the warlord's processor a thought struggled up, the Decepticon leader's fists clenching tightly when he remembered:

Soundwave had heard _the sound_, too. The Communications Officer had been there two nights ago, had heard the moan Starscream had let out, the one sound that Megatron wanted only for himself.

The urge to shoot the telepath ran through the Decepticon leader's cannon-arm as a hot charge that almost had time to build before the silver mech's rationality interfered. Soundwave seemed to notice the danger in which he had been and probably still was in, quickly moving from Starscream, his servos raised and visor locked onto the black cannon on Megatron's arm.

"Soundwave. Dismissed," Megatron growled, voice dark. Seeing the hurry with which Soundwave took off brought some satisfaction into his mind, but it was quickly lost when a quiet squeak wormed into his audio receptors. The Decepticon leader turned his burning glare to Starscream, the Seeker meeting it with wide optics and slumped frame. Megatron's desire to approach the jet, to touch and explore and possess was still there, but his rage burnt stronger at the moment, fuelled by an emotion the gun-former could have named if he had wanted to. Somewhere on the background there was confusion too, waken up by his own overtly violent reactions as well as the events he had just witnessed.

The Decepticon leader stared at Starscream, the heavy silence finally broken by the Seeker's meek, wary question, "M-may I go, leader?"

Megatron sighed, the sound long and deep and disgruntled, and turned around, leaving the jet with no word.

* * *

The next morning dawned in time, even if Starscream knew it only thanks to his chronometer, no ray of morning sunlight strong enough or willing to pierce the dark waters and metres of steel to shine in the Decepticon HQ.

Starscream stirred awake from the half-recharge in which he had spent the last night, optics blinking for some time before focussing.

It soon became clear that he needed to re-energise.

Again, even if it was completely normal since he had only drank one cube of energon yesterday. Starscream cycled a deep sigh. Nothing had been normal after his and Megatron's latest fight and the following events, and the idea of leaving his quarters seemed dangerous. There was the possibility of meeting Megatron or Soundwave, and Starscream did not really look forward to seeing either of them right now. Yesterday had been a chaos, starting from Soundwave's blackmailing attempt – the Seeker was still unsure about what the telepath had wanted from him –, and things had swiftly gone downhill when Megatron had arrived to find him and Soundwave discussing, the Decepticon leader's strange behaviour towards both the Communications Officer and the Seeker himself having filled Starscream with fear. He had run into his quarters the moment Megatron had been out of his sight, spending the rest of yesterday in his thoughts that, if possible, had been even more of a mess than before.

Starscream shook his processor clear. He would make a really quick visit to the mess hall, find a way to bring a bunch of cubes into his quarters and stay there until the world turned back into normal; until Megatron would mock and beat him again and Soundwave hate him without trying blackmail him.

The jet made his way to the mess hall with a hurried pace, peeking over his shoulder every once in a while. Starscream stepped into the large room, a sigh of relief escaping him when he noticed that the hall was void of Megatrons and Soundwaves.

"Hey, Starscream!"

* * *

Just like the last solar cycle, this one started with paperwork as well. Megatron's particularly bad mood from yesterday – he had never got to really approach Starscream – was still prominent in his CPU. He seethed on his way to the Control Room, his annoyance settling only when he got the first datapad in servo and sat down in his throne to start eyeing its contents.

Only half of his processor occupied itself with the task at hand, however, the rest straying things such as … Starscream. Megatron felt a shudder running down his body, the mere thought of white wings or the slender, tri-coloured frame bringing both desire and confusion to his mind. He had spent most of the last evening deciding that he should just stick to his plan to approach the Seeker and make him his. Soundwave's role in all of this was still quite unclear, but Megatron could not keep the little jab of anger from his mind. He had heard the telepath saying something about wanting something from Starscream yesterday, and the gun-former did not like that at all.

The door to the Control Room opened with a whirr, and Megatron's optics narrowed when he realised it was no-one else than the Communications Officer entering the room. The navy blue mech greeted him formally, sitting down at a monitor. Megatron kept his optics locked onto the back of the telepath's helm for a klik longer, then turned his attention back to the datapads he had to go through.

It took the gun-former a breem to realise that he was still reading the same sentence, his processor once again having occupied itself with thinking about Starscream. This was not going to work.

"Soundwave! Where's Starscream?" Megatron turned to glare at the telepath, who looked back in confusion. "I want to know where that treacherous Seeker is. Find him."

"As you command."

The warlord stood up from his throne, walking to the blue mech and stopping behind his chair. Soundwave peeked curiously at Megatron, then turned back to his monitor, shuffling through real-time video footage until the tri-coloured form of the Decepticon Second in Command appeared onto the screen. "Starscream: in the mess hall."

Megatron's fingers gave a twitch, not the I-wish-to-strangle-somebody one, but one caused by a little, hot electric pulse and the following thrill coursing through him. The Decepticon leader stared at the monitor – at Starscream. The Seeker was sitting at a table with his trinemates, the red Seeker's dark face forming a sneer as he discussed something with the other two. Megatron paid little attention to the other jets, optics drawn to admire the slender build of his Second.

"Starscream's presence: required?"

Megatron's optics narrowed at the monotonic question, a thoughtful expression crossing his silvery faceplates. He did not particularly want to have Starscream in the Control Room, not when only seeing the Seeker through a monitor had him thinking things very unrelated to the work he had to do. Then again, maybe he was working too hard: a distraction could be welcome.

"Soundwave: retrieves Starscream?"

The words shot through the silver mech, his posture tensing in an astrosecond. A shout escaped his lips, unintended and purely instinctive, "No!"

Soundwave turned around in his chair, and Megatron realised he was snarling the moment the telepath leant as far from him as he could while still remaining seated, blue servos raised in a soothing gesture. "As you command."

The silver mech took a step back, trying to tame the unexpected streak of wild possessiveness. He cleared his vocaliser awkwardly. "I was planning on taking a little break. I will … meet Starscream in the mess hall."

Soundwave merely nodded, turning back to face his monitor. Megatron slowly stacked the datapads he still had to read, closely observing the Communications Officer and making sure that the blue mech's monitor no more showed Starscream before he strolled out of the Control Room.

* * *

There was no way Starscream could have stopped fidgeting, or controlled the minute trembling of his servos as he sipped his energon in quick, nervous gulps. His trinemates, sitting opposite him, were staring, clearly confused, and the red Seeker sent a particularly nasty glare at them. He could not believe he had let Skywarp and Thundercracker coax him to stay and drink his cube in the mess hall, not when either his leader or the unreadable telepath could have entered at any moment!

A nanoklik later Starscream desperately wished he had not thought about that – he recognised the imperious rhythm of footsteps the moment it caught his audio receptors. He did not want to be right, did not want to turn around just to see the silver form of the mech he most despised and fervently lusted after, yet the slow turn of his upper body and a panicked peek had him facing that exact sight. Starscream almost jumped backward, the idea of stumbling for escape, maybe over the table, crossing his thoughts. He dismissed it, sitting petrified where he was. The strangling pressure on his neck-cables increased with every step that Megatron took towards him.

Starscream heard Skywarp ask him something, but the words never registered in his panicky chaos of a processor, only the purple Seeker's curious tone. The red jet thought of turning to look at his trinemates, feeling the bewilderment radiating from them, but he could not take his optics off of Megatron, the tyrant's gaze finally meeting his for an astrosecond.

Starscream's panic was reaching incredible levels, his leader so close … and then Megatron passed him. Metres from him, the silver mech went for the energon dispenser, paying no attention to Starscream who still shivered, optics wide. The ten nanokliks he had for gathering himself were far from enough, Starscream had barely begun to realise that Megatron had really walked past him when the Decepticon leader turned around with a fresh cube of energon in his servo.

The Seeker's reflexes had slowed down just enough that his optics got caught with Megatron's again before the jet had even thought about looking aside. It was one more of those heated, unreadable gazes, the gun-former's optics captivating Starscream with the intensity they burnt with. The red Seeker did not know what he saw in Megatron's optics, if it was anger or something else, but his Spark had started to swirl restlessly, only not with fear this time. His frame tingled, the sensation growing hotter and hotter when their optics stayed locked onto each others'.

The fear was fading into background, only to be pulled back when Megatron, still holding their optic contact, took a step closer. The Seeker almost bolted up, finally tearing his gaze off Megatron to glance around for an escape route.

The larger mech took another step closer then another – Starscream had to run, Pit damn it, why didn't his legs work? – and stopped. Starscream thought he caught a glimpse of hesitation in the silver mech, but it vanished quickly. Megatron changed his course as if it had been his plan all along, walking past Starscream – so close – giving off a feeling of strange annoyance and … disappointment? Frame stiff, the jet could have sworn his leader's black fingers brushed his left wing just before the tyrant increased his pace, exiting the mess hall.

Starscream stared, stilled in shock and too surprised to feel relief or anything else, his energon slowly gaining temperature until every half-frozen lump had melted back into its liquid form, fear slowly starting to fade from his body.

"Man, what was that all about?"

Starscream twitched slightly, turning in his seat to blankly regard the pair sitting across the table. He had forgotten about his trinemates and now he dearly wished he hadn't, seeing how Skywarp's whole face shone with curiosity.

"Wow, that sure was some tension between you and Megatron!"

"What 'tension'? You … You're out of your processor," Starscream hissed at the teleporter, his tone vehement, "That was nothing."

Thundercracker cast him a half-amused glance, his tone dry when he answered, "Just like the 'nothing' from two days ago? The paint-streaks and all? You've been acting strangely, and I think this has something to do with that as well."

The red Seeker had no other option but to return to staring his trinemates with blank optics, trying to figure out who he should shoot – Megatron, his trinemates or himself – in order to make everything normal again.


	7. On the Quiet

**AN: **Once again, I'd like to thank you for being awesome and reading this story! Hope you like it.

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**7. On the Quiet

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The silver mech's steps left the corridors behind him echoing with loud confusion. The rhythm of his marching was not as determined as it usually was, his whole presence a touch less intimidating now that he wasn't paying much attention to his outer appearance. Megatron's thoughts had captured his focus, drawing him into his processor until he barely noticed how his soldiers respectfully stepped out of his way when he made no sign of acknowledging them. His feet were on autopilot, his processor walking down a whole different path of its own.

Megatron hadn't approached his Second in Command in the mess hall. He had had the chance, and he had intended to do so, but after getting caught in Starscream's wide, red optics, a little pulse of his core had made the Decepticon leader realise that none of the things he wanted to do to, or with, Starscream were ones he could commit in the broad daylight of the underwater HQ's lamps. The idea of just walking up to Starscream and doing … _things_ had seemed reasonable enough while occupied with the dullness of paperwork, but back in the mess hall Megatron had remembered the presence of his troops; their glances quick and sneaky but still there.

The Decepticon leader had left the room in silence, but with the vague memory of the warmness of a trembling wingtip tingling on the sensor nodes of his fingertips. What had surprised Megatron even more than his sudden uncertainty, was the way that brief touch he had placed onto Starscream's wing had settled something in his core, clicked something into its rightful place. He knew it now, what he had to do about Starscream. He also realised that it would take a little more patience and time than what he had first planned, but he was in a more tactical mode now, actually bothering to think with his processor instead of acting based on his feelings. The thought of taking some time to reach his goals didn't seem that horrible, actually.

There was a problem still remaining, though, a problem that greeted the warlord in a dull monotone when he entered the Control Room,

"Megatron: back already?"

The Decepticon Commander glared at his Communications officer and mumbled something as a reply. Soundwave had been much too _present_ lately, always there – unfortunately also when Starscream had been _there_.

The telepath tried again after a while, "Megatron: approached Starscream?"

The silver mech turned to glare at Soundwave, words forced out from between his gritted dentas, "I did. It was very pleasing. Enlightening."

Soundwave regarded him with obvious curiosity, then nodded slowly. "Fact: … Good to hear."

The Decepticon leader snorted, sitting into his throne and sharply observing Soundwave. The Communications Officer was not telling him something. Something of great importance. Megatron had no idea what to think about that, but he didn't need his processor to have an opinion on the matter, as his Spark had a tight little corner full of annoyance and suspicion reserved only for the telepath whose existence Megatron had always appreciated before. That appreciation had drastically lessened now, even if it was apparent that more than half of his anger was sparked by Soundwave's sudden interest in Starscream – a fact that made Megatron ponder if his CPU and judgment were a little clouded thanks to a certain jet-former.

But Starscream was, or at least would be, his. Megatron didn't want others to pay attention to the Seeker.

* * *

"Stop following me!"

There came no answer, neither a calmly vocalised, reasonable reply nor a snappish, insulting one. The two kept following, though, and Starscream's shoulders tensed, his dental plates bared to the empty, well-lit hallway in front of him. He contemplated just taking another step and trying to ignore his trinemates, but that wouldn't have been like him. He had already acted out of character enough for one day, and letting annoying idiots of trinemates just follow him when he had told them many times to stop it was out of question.

Starscream spun around, bright blue hands in tight fists, staring murderously at the two who stood there, as if waiting for him to say something. As far as the Air Commander could remember, he had never promised to tell them anything about, well, anything; not even after his trinemates had shown him just how nosy and _right_ they could be in the mess hall. The red Seeker had marched out of the room shortly after, but the purple and blue pests had insisted on following on his tail, silent but radiating off curiosity.

Starscream's voice came out not only annoyed but also extremely high-pitched when he finally snapped, "What do you two _want?_"

"Only to keep you company," Skywarp answered, his tone and smile bringing Starscream very close to the point of inane screaming and uncontrolled Null-ray fire. He had had enough of this, and by _this_ he meant all of the weird events and fear and uncertainty from past way too many solar cycles.

Thundercracker seemed to notice his growing irritation, his deep words hastily filling the silence that had been quickly growing tense, "We want to know what's going on between you and Megatron. You've not been quite yourself lately."

Starscream scoffed at the blue Seeker, his hands finding their place on his hips. "When have you started to care?"

Thundercracker seemed unaffected by the Air Commander's sharp words, meeting Starscream's gaze squarely. "We have to care. You're our trineleader."

The purple jet hurried to finish the blue jet's words, a smug smile in full blossom on his face, "But we don't care _that_ much. You're too much of a fragger."

It took a dissuasive glare from Thundercracker to silence Skywarp, and for a moment the red jet felt almost thankful for the calm presence of the blue Seeker. Starscream himself had only ever managed to pry out even more stupid insults out of the teleporter, no matter how hard he tried to shut the purple Seeker up. Starscream hiked his nose up, snorting if just to remind himself that he was exasperated with the two, both of them. "Oh, but weren't it a few solar cycles ago that you wanted a new trineleader? Whining about how much you despised me? You're just trying to satisfy your Pit-damned curiosity!"

Skywarp was ridiculously quick to answer for a mech with processing capability as low as his, the teleporter's voice now ringing audibly annoyed and a bit louder than before, "Yep, that too. And you're the one to talk about complaining, you're always going on about wanting better subordinates! Maybe you should ask Megatron for some drones to boss around, at least they'll obey your stupid orders without question!"

The dark jet huffed, purple arms crossed over his chest. The sight and the sound, as well as the almost moping feeling lingering about Skywarp, made Starscream stop for an astrosecond. It seemed as if his trinemate was somehow … insulted. As if Skywarp would've actually wanted him to be friendlier towards them. The red Seeker hadn't got his face under control when Thundercracker spoke up, and he turned to face the blue Seeker with his optics a touch too wide and mouth no longer curled into a snarl, open bewilderment relishing its rare chance to grace his faceplates.

"He's right, Starscream. You can't expect us to behave if you're being a fragger yourself. But we do care. We need a leader, and you're a good flier," Thundercracker paused for a brief moment, his glance calculative, "Well, maybe the best flier around. And pretty capable strategist, too. We need you to lead us."

The little, flattered smile appeared onto Starscream's lips components on its own accord. He nearly thought about being just a bit more receptive and kind towards his trinemates, but then the blue Seeker continued, "And I think you need us as well."

The concept of actually listening to his wingmates was blown out of Starscream's CPU the moment Thundercracker dared to suggest he needed anyone's help. "Ha! I don't need help" Not yours and not anyone else's. I can solve any problem on my own!"

And when Starscream swirled around and stomped off, indignation audible in the furious clacks of his thruster heels, neither of his trinemates followed. A quiet, slightly meek and a tad concerned reply did, however, "Mmh, I kinda hope you're right about that."

Skywarp's words – as well as the fact that it was Skywarp talking, as if the purple jet was fit to try to advise him – were more than enough to make the red Seeker's days-old frustration and suspense turn into two beams of destructive energy that shot out of his Null-ray rifles to meet and pierce the corridor wall.

The red Seeker didn't spare the smoking holes another glance, marching off with his temper and natural, lately quiet conceit and still-present fear and anxiety in a tight knot that refused to open or loosen.

A second glance might've stopped him for a moment, though, since in between the dark holes marking of his own uncontrollable outburst was a whole lot larger sign of someone else's anger, this one nearly one-week old. The size of the charred-edged hole in the metal wall would've made it quite clear to Starscream that he wasn't the only one angered and confused by the last weeks and their events.

But unlike that other one, Starscream still had a decision to made, as well as some raging, unresolved feelings to tame.

* * *

The evening crept on, quiet and uneventful, but when Megatron stepped into his quarters with lots of work he'd been supposed to do days ago finally done, he felt relaxed. Content, even. The Deception leader was making his way to his desk when his optics dropped onto an object in the corner of the spacious room. A moment's surprise got quickly replaced with even stronger feeling of smug contentment. The silver mech strayed to pick up the detached, dented rifle on his floor, sitting at his desk to observe the Null-ray a bit more closely.

He hadn't noticed the gun before, but it was obvious it had clattered onto the floor during the fight with Starscream two nights ago. Megatron remembered ripping the rifle off his Second's arm, remembered the satisfying shriek his actions had torn from Starscream. The warlord chuckled.

The white metal, cold, lifeless and silent when not attached to its fiery owner, felt pleasant to the touch, and the falling night found the Decepticon leader turning the gun in his servos, caressing the dents his own fingers had made. The grin slowly spreading on his faceplates was as much fascinated as it was lazily excited – the Null-ray gun was a part of Starscream, one of the most easily detachable, but one nonetheless. Seeing and feeling the way he had been able to mar the Seeker's armour was somehow thrilling. On the other hand, the cool white metal was smooth to his touch where not damaged, just like Starscream's wing had been.

He'd be touching those wings freely and whenever he wanted, Megatron decided, and the newly found patience allowed him to keep on planning for a slower, sneakier and hopefully more effective approach. He'd give Starscream some time, see if the Seeker would approach him on his own accord and make a move if the jet wouldn't in a few solar cycles.

The grin was still on Megatron's face when he settled onto his berth, and it followed him into his recharge.

* * *

Starscream was almost ready to admit to himself that sitting in his quarters was probably more boring than safe – days passed, and no matter how hard he stared at the wall, no matter how many times he checked his systems or adjusted the new Null-ray guns on his arms, nothing changed. At first the Seeker had been dead set on staying in his quarters until some magic trick or something would either turn back time or make everyone who knew, or thought they knew, forget.

The red Seeker had wanted to avoid everyone, but after a solar cycle he had decided that he still needed someone to retrieve him energon cubes. It had taken some serious effort to bribe Skywarp into bringing him energon, but in the end the vague promise of _maybe_ telling the fool something had made the teleporter's optics light up and helm bob up and down enthusiastically. Starscream had never thought his private life to be _that_ interesting, but the energon cubes had been appearing regularly ever since, teleported straight into his quarters, and the red Seeker almost felt bad for he had no intention to actually tell his purple trinemate anything. At least Skywarp had seemed to have forgiven him for being "an annoying fragger", the purple jet had even tried to engage in almost-friendly conversations with him a few times. Starscream had no idea about what was going on in the idiot's processor, but it felt kind of nice to speak with someone, even if their exchanges had been short and their usual insults insistently creeping into them.

Starscream shook his helm and checked his chronometer, only to confirm that no more than three kliks had passed since he had last checked – the morning dragged on, just as slow as the two or three or maybe four ones before it. The only new thing was the slight itch there was to Starscream's wings, reminding him that Seekers were supposed to fly way more often than once a week – it had been a long time since the red jet had dared as much as to peek out of his room, and getting out of the base and into the blue skies required more than a quick, nervous glance out of his door.

Then again, the the dullness of the last days suddenly became almost pleasant the moment it was disturbed. Starscream nearly jumped out of his seat when his comm.-link let out a demanding blip.

The Seeker knew who it was, of course, and answering a call had rarely felt this hard, or scary. _'Yes, Lord Megatron?'_

Starscream hated the meek tone of his voice as well as the flinch he was unable to stop when Megatron's voice rasped into his audios:

_'You have been missing your duties a lot lately, Seeker. I suggest you hurry into the Control Room to make up for that before I come and drag you out of your quarters by force. Know that I have been generous by giving you the last week off.'_

Starscream gulped before answering shortly, _'Understood.'_

_'Good. I expect to see you here in two kliks.'_

The red Seeker didn't like Megatron's strange tone of voice at all, but while he truly wanted to slip back into the boredom of the past solar cycles, he had no choice but to obey. Starscream did not want his leader to come into his quarters.

So, after two kliks the SIC found himself staring at the Control Room door, trying to find the courage to step in. He barely had the time to cycle a nervous sigh before the door slid open without a warning, Megatron's somewhat amused voice greeting the Seeker who entered the room reluctantly, "Ah, welcome Starscream. It has been a while, hasn't it?"

Starscream mumbled an unrecognisable answer, hoping that Megatron would just tell what he was supposed to do. The silver mech, however, seemed to be in no hurry. The Seeker's frame slumped, a whole lot more intensive wave of nervousness and even fear attacking him when his leader approached him in a nonchalant way. Megatron stopped in front of him, a good distance between them, and raked his optics quickly up and down Starscream's frame before locking them with Starscream's. The red Seeker managed to restrain a physical flinch, gulping quietly to brace himself. He cast a quick glance to his surroundings, the other mechs in the room occupied with their own tasks and paying no attention to him and Megatron. It somewhat soothed him to see that they weren't alone in the room – surely the presence of other Decepticons would keep Megatron from doing anything too radical.

Starscream's gaze snapped back to Megatron when the tyrant spoke up and took a stealthy step closer, "I have never allowed you to take vacations of your own, Starscream. I hope you'll enjoy your week of double shifts at the monitor. Plus your normal duties, naturally."

Starscream's optics widened, his mouth flying open to let out some kind of a protest – staring at a monitor was far from a task befitting someone of his rank – only to close abruptly when he realised that there was something else wrong, too.

Megatron was planning something, there was no other explanation to his out-of-place behaviour. The Seeker couldn't remember the last time he had seen Megatron this calm; there had been some kind of a fire constantly burning in the mech's optics over the course of the few last weeks, either rage or something Starscream didn't dare to try and name.

"As you command," Starscream finally muttered begrudgingly, searching his leader's face for some clue about his thoughts.

"That's a good Seeker," Megatron mocked, but even it sounded far too laid back, too casual after the events that had made Starscream lock up in his quarters for four full solar cycles. The silver mech just smirked and turned around, settling into his throne.

Starscream frowned, thoughts racing and anxiety quickly filling his mind, then hurried to start with his task at the monitor. He couldn't help peeking over his shoulder for one more time, very uneasy with the fact that he couldn't see his leader as he worked.

There was something going on, and Starscream knew he wouldn't like it, whatever it was.

* * *

Megatron smirked at his Second's back, admiring the broad white wings and letting his gaze roam the tri-coloured frame, imagination filling in the parts he couldn't see, such as the red curve of hips he knew to be perfect even without his mind polishing it.

The Decepticon leader chuckled amusedly, his Spark leaping when he saw the immediate jerk his Second gave at the sound. None of the other Decepticons in the room seemed to care or pay attention, and the warlord gladly returned to staring at the bright-coloured Seeker. The silver mech caught Starscream hastily peeking at him, chuckling again, a bit louder this time, as he took in the Seeker's apparent nervousness.

It seemed Starscream was suspecting something, but Megatron fully intended to make his approach stealthy and gradual this time. The Seeker would only realise just what Megatron had in mind for him when it was too late to escape his advances.

The warlord's third chuckle resulted in a very visible startle and remarkable tensing up of Starscream's frame.


	8. Shots of Suspicion

**AN:** Thanks for the reviews for the previous chapters! Hope you (can) enjoy this chapter too!

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8. Shots of Suspicion

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Wings perked after having a crisp wind caressing them for the past few joors, Starscream stepped into the lively afternoon rush of the Decepticon Control Room. The flight he had taken had been pleasant – it was wonderful to fly after such a long time of not being able to due to certain reasons – and the company of his trinemates had been bearable, both of them quiet enough and letting the Air Commander just fly. They had even listened to the few orders he had given without complaining once. Starscream didn't know when the process in his relationship with his wingmates had been made, but he didn't mind that they could now talk without the insulting tinge plaguing every other word.

No matter how nice a flight, though, it was far from enough to prepare the Seeker for the upcoming boredom. He flopped onto a chair and turned to face the monitor he had quickly learnt to hate.

It had taken Starscream two days of dull staring at a monitor to realise three things. Three very significant things: first, the joors spent by the dully blipping monitor were _long;_ second, that a week was an awfully long time; and third, that while Megatron was (due to some events of the near past) scary when he did something, he was even more scary when he did nothing at all – the Seeker was well aware that the silver mech was up to something, but nothing had happened yet. His leader was acting … normally, but everything from his occasional insults to the dry comments were giving off a too strong stench of _fake_ and _scheming_ to be sincere.

The jet was shaken awake by the very mech he had been thinking about.

"It's amazing that you find time to daydream with such an amount of work undone."

Starscream's wings twitched when Megatron's chided him, his raspy voice teasing. The red Seeker mumbled a quick answer, hoping to get away with a couple of not-actually-words, and leant closer to his monitor. He didn't want Megatron to pay attention to him, and while he was far from alone in the crowded room, he still didn't feel safe. The Seeker knew his fear was glaringly obvious, radiating off his hunched back and drooped wings … and he couldn't have cared less. Starscream feared, he honestly feared Megatron at the moment. And that didn't happen very often, at least not when the tyrant had threatened him in no verbal or physical way.

"You have been quiet lately, Starscream."

Starscream's whole frame stiffened the moment the gun-former's words reached his audio receptors, the sly tone of Megatron's voice setting off the alarm bells in his processor. A few astroseconds passed while the Seeker dearly hoped – slag it, _prayed – _that it was a false alarm, that the stress from last weeks was making him overtly, unhealthily paranoid.

A particularly heavy footstep thumped on the floor, distinct even through the chatting of his fellow Decepticons and the wide variety of different sounds signalling whatever they happened to signal. By that time Starscream knew better than to cling to optimism. He couldn't turn around, no matter how much he wanted to. He heard it, anyway, Megatron's slow, confident approach. There was absolutely no need to witness the smug, cunning smirk he knew to be taking place on the Decepticon leader's lips.

"Is something wrong?"

Starscream offlined his optics for a nanoklik, taking in a deep pull of air.

"N-no. Not at all. Everything's perfect." And it was crystal clear that it was a lie, the words rushing from his vocaliser in a stuttering, high-pitched mess that perfectly reflected the current disorganised, panicked condition of his CPU.

A low, almost purring _"Oh. That's good to hear."_ was the only warning Starscream got before a hand fell down onto his wing. The sensor nodes under the heavy servo exploded into life, the Seeker's shocked gasp sharp and unrestrained, and his optics flew wide open to catch the reflection of him and his leader on the monitor that offered him nothing but the dark screensaver to distract himself with.

The air around them grew heavy and dense, each astrosecond like a completed eternity of its own, every passing moment preceding the _something_ that was about to happen.

When that something actually happened, Starscream was way too caught in his shock to try to mute his vocaliser. A surprised squeak flew off his lips.

Megatron ran his hand up and down the leading edge of his wing. Slowly, gently. _Caressing_. It didn't justify the tyrant's unexpected gesture that the touch had actually felt pleasant.

Starscream gulped, hard, and finally hissed out a pathetic, thin whine, "What do you t-think you're doing?"

Megatron chuckled, the sound far too warm and pleased and _close to Starscream's audio receptor_, and answered in the same smug, raspy tone, "Nothing at all. Just made sure you were all right before I left."

With that, Starscream was left to stare at the blank monitor in front of him, the echoes of his leader's footsteps fading after the door slid close again, leaving the Seeker shocked and confused and lost within the liveliness of the Control Room.

* * *

It was amazing, almost astonishing, how Soundwave had learnt to ruin his mood by only appearing into his field of vision.

The Communications Officer turned around a corner, his masked face snapping up when Megatron couldn't contain an annoyed sound.

"Soundwave," Megatron stated, and it was void of the smug feeling of victory he had felt only a few moments ago. The telepath's presence didn't, thankfully, take away the tingling warmth from his fingertips or the deep satisfaction deriving from the fear in Starscream's shaky, strained words. It just made the Decepticon leader hide those feelings deep into his processor, out of sight.

Soundwave nodded hesitantly, visor inexpressive but firmly locked onto Megatron's faceplates. "Megatron: seems pleased."

The silver mech smirked if a little forcibly, and drawled in a low, thick purr, "Quite. Starscream can be very … _entertaining_."

Soundwave said nothing, but Megatron could see that he was pondering something – and he didn't like it, for he had no idea what the telepath was scheming or was he scheming anything at all. The Decepticon leader didn't trust the mech like he had used to, and he was convinced that he shouldn't have, either, when a slight brush of a foreign presence interrupted his thoughts. Prodding, or trying to prod. Megatron drew up all of his mental defensive barriers immediately, optics flaring a deep, warning red as he sent the telepath a glare. Soundwave avoided optic contact briefly and the presence vanished from Megatron's CPU, gone as quickly as it had appeared.

"Soundwave: has work to do."

Megatron snorted, stepping aside to let the navy blue mech walk past him and glaring at the dark back until Soundwave turned the next corner and disappeared from sight. The Decepticon leader caught one last flash of red – the telepath's visor, turned into his direction for a quick look – before the Communications Officer was completely gone, and the sight made a mix of uneasiness, annoyance and distrust crawl and settle into the warlord's previously warm and pleased mind.

Something about Soundwave's behaviour wasn't quite right.

The fact that Megatron couldn't remember assigning the telepath a task that would've given him a good reason to be anywhere near this location didn't make him trust the tape deck any more.

* * *

Not even the calm company of puffy clouds and a warm breeze brought ease into Starscream's stressed mind. The red Seeker landed onto the flight deck, absent-mindedly greeting the Coneheads who were about to leave for a nightly patrol flight. The Air Commander shook his helm, his frame crushed under a heavy cloak of suspense as he walked towards his quarters. He was too deep in thought to notice the light-blue frame of his trinemate at first, only returning to the real world when Thundercracker spoke, "Evening, Starscream."

The red Seeker stopped and regarded the other, past whom he had almost walked, with a quick glance. "Evening."

The blue jet frowned slightly, then offered a friendly_ "Everything ok?"_ which Starscream almost answered with a lie, out of habit. Finally he decided to give a little more truthful answer, however, "Uh... I'm just tired. The last couple of days have been hectic."

Thundercracker eyed him from helm to pedes with a glance that told that the blue jet knew there to be more than that to Starscream's apparent exhaustion. "Hm, I'll bother you no longer, then. Good night."

The red Seeker mumbled something and walked past the other. He reached his quarters after a klik and stepped inside, immediately heading for the berth without bothering to switch the lights on.

He vented a deep sigh and let himself drown in his thoughts once more.

_It _had happened once again, earlier today, in the same exact way it had been happening during the last few solar cycles. Actually "it" had happened every time Starscream had been in the same room as Megatron, which had been quite a common occurrence lately, with Starscream working two shifts at Control Room where Megatron also tended to spend a lot of time, as well as carrying out his normal duties as the Decepticon SIC – a task that included a lot of interaction with his leader.

All in all, "it" had been happening very often in the last few days, always in the same sneaky manner and never explained. Starscream still had no idea what this was all about.

Megatron would walk up to him, the silver mech's behaviour all casual and leader-like. The gun-former would strike up a conversation, nonchalantly discuss something that really didn't need discussing. The touches would come a moment later, gradual but confident, inescapable. They would fall firmly onto Starscream's wing or shoulder, fear starting to gnaw his mind until forcing himself to stillness hurt. Megatron always kept on talking, insignificant things which the Seeker could only answer with curt nods and mumbling. And then his leader would excuse himself and offer Starscream one last terrifyingly self-assured smirk before the touch would vanish. The physical touch, at least.

The feeling of those strong fingers would remain, and Starscream had to reluctantly admit to himself that while his CPU struggled with fear, the hot, pulsating sensation coursing through his body was something else. Every time Megatron touched him, a hot wave would crash over him, the silver mech's fingerprints lingering on his plating like pleasantly stinging burns.

It wasn't until now that his both wings and arms were fully branded by the gun-former's dark fingertips and his body warm with the charge that thinking of Megatron and his touches summoned up, that Starscream admitted that not only was there a problem, but also that something had to be done about it.

He heaved a deep sigh.

The silent darkness of his quarters, readied for the night's recharge, tried to tell Starscream how bad of an idea this was, but the Seeker refused to listen to the warnings.

He instructed his cockpit to part and his Spark casing to open.

The nanoklik his fingers dipped inside the metal casing to meet the hot, pulsing centre of his being, all of the lingering, ghost-like marks of dark fingers' trails on his plating burst alive with burning sensation. All it took to send the tri-coloured jet into a violent overload was the firm contact of his own sky-blue fingers and his core, a sweeping caress across the bright sphere and a strained half-moan, half-whisper of his leader's name.

Light vanished from the room once again when Starscream fell into recharge, his chest-plates closing on his bright purple Spark to welcome the night safely.

* * *

Megatron sat in his throne, a deep smirk gracing his silver faceplates. One even the presence of his suspicious Communications Officer had not yet been able to wipe off.

The week had passed; this would be the last day of the cruel torture he had put Starscream through, known as an awful amount of monitor duty. It had been a great week, all in all. Megatron had got quite close to his Second, placed so many "innocent" touches on the Seeker's frame (even as his thoughts had been far from innocent). It had been fun, as ridiculous as that seemed now that he thought about it – Megatron rarely had fun of this kind, rarely felt this giddy. He knew malicious delight well, very well even, just like he knew the feeling of triumph, but this was neither of those. This was … different.

Megatron shook himself out of his thoughts when Soundwave approached him, stopping to stand in front of his throne and scrutinising him in that calculative manner the Decepticon leader had grown to know well.

"Query: Megatron happy?"

The telepath had been annoyingly insistent on making questions about Megatron's moods. The warlord snorted as an answer, then finally replied with words when Soundwave seemed to keep waiting, "Yes. I have come close to reaching some of my goals. Ones I truly want to reach."

Soundwave stared at him, faceplates betraying nothing and readying Megatron for the next words in no way, "Question: is Megatron sure about this?"

Megatron narrowed his optics, his answer coming out as a low hiss, "Of course. I know what I want."

Soundwave kept staring for a klik more, still and expressionless as stone, then turned around to return to his work. Megatron's audio receptors barely caught the monotonic mumbling, but the moment they did, his optics burst aflame and frame stiffened under an assault of inexplicable anger.

"_Those wants: perhaps conflicting with others."_

* * *

Starscream crashed down into the chair, optics tightly locking with the monitor he was determined not to stare in a long time once this shift was over.

This was the last evening shift of this merciless torture and utter dullness – Starscream would've probably been cheerful if not for the fact that he _knew _that Megatron would try something soon. The jet had had to overload himself twice this week already, yesterday evening and the one before that, and while it helped him get rid of the sensations his leader's sneaky touches evoked and left behind, it also made new touches from the tyrant harder to bear through. The fantasies that had remarkably shortened the amount of time it had took to reach overload last night definitely wouldn't help. Looking at Megatron had been hard enough already, and the mental images from yesterday night didn't help at all.

Still, the regular, once-a-klik peek over his shoulder had become an obligatory act. This time, though, the sight the Seeker's optics met was different from what he had seen every other day this week. Megatron seemed … stern. True, the silver mech still caught Starscream's glance with a knowing smirk on his faceplates, but it wasn't half as smug as the previous days'. It seemed as if the Decepticon leader was bothered by something.

Starscream didn't have time to think about his leader's worries, though, as his owns quickly stole his attention.

Megatron stood up, obviously taking the Seeker's quick peek as some kind of an invitation, now making his way towards Starscream's chair in a leisurely pace.

"Ah, Starscream," Megatron greeted him, and the Air Commander reluctantly pulled his chair around, turning to face his leader with a frown on his face. The gun-former continued in a disgustingly (unnervingly) casual, almost warm, tone, "The week's almost over. I have to admit that I'm impressed with your performance. Never had I thought you would complete such an amount of work without a word of complain." A pause. "Are you sure you're quite yourself, Seeker?"

Starscream shrank back in his chair, letting out a nervous chuckle. Megatron smiled and leant closer, blocking the Seeker's way out of the situation with his massive frame.

"You should be rewarded in some way, don't you think Starscream?"

This time the jet couldn't help letting out a frightened sound. The distance was reduced to a terrifyingly short one, the gusts of air from Megatron's vents caressing Starscream's frame like a warm breeze. The smile on the Decepticon leader's lips turned into a grin, and the Seeker's optics finally flew wide when the larger mech had the gall to lean forward and place his hands onto the armrests of Starscream's chair.

"Just name whatever you want, and I'll see if I want to give it to you." At this point Megatron's words were a hushed whisper, his face so close to Starscream's own that it was more than inappropriate. It was also at this point that the Seeker realised that all of the other Decepticons had ended their shifts already and left the two of them into the almost-intimate privacy of the empty Control Room.

"I-I..." the Seeker stuttered, voice a hoarse croak. Megatron leant a little forward, keeping their optics in tight contact that, coupled with the sheer closeness of their faces, made Starscream's Spark go wild in his chest.

His lips parted without him telling them to, and then everything from caution to consideration to common sense was out of the window. Starscream offlined his optics and leant forward, ready to close the distance …

… only to make a violent jump when the door to the Control Room whooshed open.

The result of his sudden jerk backwards was lost balance and a feeling of his chair startling into motion and slipping from under him. The Seeker's CPU had almost processed the course of events and suggested he grabbed something for support when he found himself from the floor, staring up at Megatron's back with wide, surprised optics.

The silver mech had swirled around, his voice rough and annoyed as he demanded the third mech – Blitzwing, as Starscream finally recognised him – to tell why he was here.

"Uh, spotted some Autobot signals. I was on a patrol flight and they just popped up. I thought you, uh, should know, Lord Megatron..?" the triple-changer explained, voice a little nervous most likely due to Megatron's snappiness.

Starscream didn't stay to hear the rest of the conversation, scrambling up from his humiliating position on the floor and slipping past the two other mechs before either of them could try to stop him.

The jet could feel Megatron's glare drilling through the plating of his back before the door closed behind him, and he rushed off as fast as he could.

…

He was so stupid.

The Seeker's lips still tingled from the almost-kiss – and it was wrong, all of it. Megatron didn't, _couldn't_, want anything like that. The tyrant would've slagged him if he had finished the contact between their lips, no doubt.

Starscream sunk his dental plates into his lower lip and decided that he should have his processor checked.

* * *

Megatron had woken up with the annoyance from the last night's wasted chance still very present in his processor. It definitely didn't help that the first mech he had to see that morning was Soundwave.

The Command Centre echoed with tense silence, the two mechs in the room both completing their tasks and scrutinising their datapads in order to not speak to the other. The meeting would start the moment Starscream entered the room, but it seemed the Seeker was late as usual.

Megatron quickly pulled his thoughts from his Second before they could run astray, focussing instead on Soundwave, whose helm snapped up immediately.

"You gathered information about the signals?" Megatron growled none-too-kindly, settling a bit more comfortably into his chair.

"Affirmative." The telepath nodded. "Laserbeak: sensed no Autobot presence."

Megatron sighed, his tiredness ringing as a heavy undertone to the sound. Acting like the leader he was supposed to be was hard when his thoughts were racing to subjects that had nothing to do with Blitzwing's report from last night or any other thing they were meant to discuss in this weekly meeting. "Could it be a false alarm?"

The telepath shrugged. "Fact: The location close the Decepticon base. Autobots: possibly scheming something."

Megatron heaved another sigh, then decided that the journey from Starscream's quarters to the Command Centre couldn't possibly take one and half a breem. The Decepticon leader had commed the Seeker once already, apparently disturbing his Second's recharge, but he opened the link again, tone demanding, _'You should be here at this point. Hurry up, Seeker, I don't have the whole solar cycle.'_

Starscream's answer was all nervous muttering, but Megatron gathered that he was nearly at the door.

* * *

Starscream didn't want to go there. Not after how out of hand the things had got; the yesterday evening could've led into a catastrophe, and the Seeker was in a mess quite deep enough already.

It wasn't working, nothing was. He needed to do something, but it seemed others had been doing things lately, he had just stood there and let them happen, unable to react or act in appropriate ways. It had to change. Starscream had to stop this, this _all_, before he something he'd truly regret happened – he had come way too close to that last evening, already.

The Seeker forced his wings up, straightened his backstruts with effort far too great and opened the door.

"Um. I.. uh. Am here now," Starscream stammered, caught in the deep red glare that Megatron turned to regard him with. The Seeker shifted his gaze aside, only to realise that Soundwave was there, too. The navy blue mech's staring was at least as unnerving as the Decepticon leader's dark glare, and the jet desperately wanted to run from the Command Centre. Megatron's presence alone was unpleasant enough, but having the telepath – who _knew – _there too was even more scary. Starscream had managed to avoid the Communications Officer for the past week, and had been fervently hoping that Soundwave would tell no-one if he kept out of the mech's sight.

"Finally," Megatron stated, _finally_, and Starscream's Spark started pulsing again when Soundwave turned to look at the tyrant.

The meeting dragged on, like they tended to. The tension was something new, though, Megatron's words sharp whenever he addressed the Communications Officer, who droned his answers in his characteristic monotone. Starscream sat in silence, shrinking into his chair to avoid drawing attention to himself. He answered the few questions he had to with a small, meek tone, making sure to not object to Megatron's suggestions and opinions – the Seeker just wanted back to his quarters, and as soon as possible.

Starscream had almost fully retreated into the panicky chaos of his mind, when Megatron's cunning tone wormed into his audios.

"A-ah, excuse me?" the jet squeaked, turning to look at his leader with nervousness pulsing through his systems.

"I asked what do you think about our plan regarding the Autobot energy signatures spotted yesterday?"

The Seeker hadn't been listening at all, too deep in his distress to register what had been said before. Starscream glanced around, thoughts turning into thick mud. He had no idea what to say. He had to say the right thing. He had to say _something_, as Megatron's expectant glance confirmed, and...

"I think it's a, uh, good idea … what you said, you know. Y-yes, we should definitely do that!"

Starscream knew that he had said something wrong the moment Megatron's lips broke into a deep, malicious grin. "So you actually think we should go shake hands with the Autobots? For that's what I said, _in case you weren't listening._"

Soundwave comped Megatron's smug words with a mocking, metallic chuckle.

"Oh, my dear Second. You have been doing such an outstanding work lately, why disappoint me now?"

Starscream quickly decided that he had to get away.

* * *

Megatron's Spark bounced about its casing, making a massive leap when the Seeker's optics flew wide in terror. The Decepticon leader's grin only spread when Starscream bolted up from his seat, shaking visibly, and threw his helm from side to side in a search for an escape. Then the jet darted for the door like mad, heels clacking against the floor in a panicked rhythm, but Megatron was well ahead of him. It took one quick mental command to extinguish Starscream's hopes of running away.

The click of the lock rang sharp in the momentary silence, effectively freezing his Second into place. The Seeker let out a howl full of fear, the uncontrolled trembling of the red-and-white frame becoming more violent.

To be honest, Megatron wasn't sure why Starscream was reacting so strongly, with a terror so apparent, but he didn't care right now. He had been waiting for a chance like this, for a reason to approach and "punish" the Seeker and to make his final move, and this was good enough. Soundwave's presence was a definite downside, though.

Megatron stood up from his seat, calm and controlled and outright triumphant. Starscream whirled around the astrosecond the floor rang under his first step, the shock and fear so obvious in the Seeker's wide, round optics that Megatron half-expected him to go into stasis-lock due to sheer panic.

"N-no," Starscream whispered, horrified and hoarse and high-pitched. Megatron didn't listen to his Second's plea. He kept approaching the Seeker in a relaxed pace, optics keenly examining the tri-coloured mech who bolted for the locked door again in a desperate attempt to break out of or through it.

Megatron stopped right behind the Seeker whose normally deft blue fingers were now slipping off and fumbling with the panel that should've opened the door.

"It's not going to open, Starscream," Megatron drawled, light-headed with triumph. The Seeker in front of him gasped, shrinking down until he was a trembling mess of red and white and blue, pressed against the door and trapped between it and Megatron's frame.

"You're not going anywhere," the silver mech told.

Starscream staggered around, dark faceplates contorted into a fascinating mask of fear, and backed into the door as far as he could. Megatron grinned and stepped forward, not about to let the Seeker take distance. Their frames came to almost touch each others'.

"Megatron. I … didn't mean …. L-let me go, please!"

Had the Decepticon leader's Spark been any softer, the Seeker's shaky, pleading words would've made him take a step backwards, made him offer Starscream the chance to gather himself.

As it was, however, Starscream's pathetic whine only sent a powerful surge of excitement and pure lust through the gun-former. The jet's dark face became illuminated by the crimson fire Megatron's optics caught; wild red shining on the charcoal grey lips that parted and closed and parted again as Starscream searched for words.

The Seeker would be – no, _already_ _was_ – Megatron's.

* * *

He couldn't think. He couldn't do anything, not with his leader blocking his way to freedom and personal space, the silver frame so warm, the tyrant's presence so threatening.

Starscream's vocaliser hitched, and while he didn't want to turn his gaze aside, he had to – Megatron's deeply satisfied grin was too much for his already slipping sanity.

"Please," Starscream stuttered for one last time. Megatron's answer was a smug chuckle and a large servo setting onto Starscream's shoulder. The Seeker's fans whirred into motion thanks to the sudden wave of tingling sensation shooting through him, even as his optics offlined only because he did not want to see.

The fear and panic and the conflicting, insistent lust crawling through his body were raging in Starscream's CPU and core and occupying him so, that he only noticed the extra presence in his mind when it started digging his much too personal and secret memory files, prodding his thoughts and drawing information from his chaotic processor. Starscream's optics onlined with a flash, shock freezing him when his gaze met Soundwave's. The Communications Officer had stood up from his seat at some point, now standing near the the table. Expressionless and silent as ever.

Starscream's Spark almost froze, only to cease pulsing when a way-too-familiar monotone started to drone straight into his mind.

_'Suggestion: Tell Megatron that - -'_

_'What are you doing? G-et out!' _the Seeker cried mentally, servos reaching to claw in distress at anything in his reach – Megatron's chest. Uncontrolled, _uncontrollable_, like everything else about him at the moment.

Soundwave's presence eventually vanished from his mind, but not before he had finished his sentence with a suggestion that made Starscream jerk physically and scream, "**What? Never!**"

* * *

The sudden, audio-shattering screech made Megatron realise that Starscream's panicked gaze wasn't directed at him. The silver mech turned to look at Soundwave, mind stupefied and caught by surprise, to notice that the Communications Officer was staring straight at his Second in an unreadable manner.

Something burst into raging fire inside Megatron, a surge of anger – and jealousy, as the Decepticon leader finally had to admit to himself – coursing through his body. His rationality was swept out of the way of possessiveness, and his silver arm rose, no sliver of common sense or self-control restraining it, to grip a white, sleek wing in a manner that screamed _'Mine!'. _The Seeker jumped and gasped, trying to wriggle out from under his servo, but Megatron kept his grab firm and optics locked onto Soundwave's, mentally roaring at the telepath to get the Pit away and stop looking at his Seeker.

Megatron ran his servo down the broad, smooth wing, torn between attacking the Communications Officer he had always trusted and ravaging the body of his treacherous, _perfect_ Second in Command.

The Decepticon leader didn't need to decide, as Starscream's shrill, panicked _"**Stop!**"_ drew his attention. The next thing he knew was a bright flash of colour, straight in front of his face, and then Megatron felt his body weaken, as if he had been experiencing a power failure, strength leaving his fingers at first, his knee hydraulics giving before everything started to fade.

He vaguely felt something knocking him backwards, heard a dull crash. Then there was only heavy, grey mud. Struggling against the forces that tried to push him into stasis lock, Megatron grunted and tried to cling onto something, anything, from the outer world.

The distant sound finally became that thing, a shriek of complain and sounds of scuffling piercing the thick fog. He forced his systems to recalibrate, struggling to get his optics back online.

The return of the Decepticon leader's vision happened shortly after, and the sight his optical sensors flew wide to witness hit him like an explosion; violently and with a nearly audible 'whoomph'.

His Second, all high-pitched protests and flailing limbs and angry sounds spilling from the snarled mouth – like an incarnation of fierce, if a little panicked, anger –, caught …

… in the arms of his Third in Command.

Possessive anger burnt through Megatron's processor, ripping all of his thoughts into two or three until nothing remained but the anger and the sight that caused it; the way Soundwave struggled to keep the bright-coloured Seeker under control, one bright blue arm trapped between the two mech's frames; the way Starscream tried to escape the grip around his waist; the way … the Seeker's hips were _rubbing_ against Soundwave's crotch. It was disgusting, seeing Soundwave where Megatron himself wanted to be, Starscream's colourful, slender body twisting against the blue mech's frame in an enticing display of agility as well as ardour.

Megatron didn't have to charge his weapon, as it had already charged itself, and when the warlord fired, he wasn't sure if the shot was targeted at Starscream to punish the Seeker for shooting Megatron in the face with his Null-rays, like he should've done as the leader, or at Soundwave (who was only acting loyal and restraining the treacherous jet) to get the telepath far from the Seeker and the place and position in which the Decepticon leader himself wanted to be.

Two surprised sounds – one a deep, monotonic grunt and another a loud shriek – and a bright blast of purple later Megatron hoped it was the right mech he had just sent into stasis lock.


	9. Distance

**AN: **Do enjoy yourself if possible!

**

* * *

**

9. Distance

* * *

Shooting Starscream would mean having a pretty, tempting pile of offlined Seeker laying on the floor – and the Decepticon leader couldn't decide if he liked the idea. Offlining his Second would also lead to Megatron being left alone in the Command Centre with stinging frustration and his most trusted officer who he couldn't trust at the moment. That didn't sound too pleasing either.

Then again, if he blasted Soundwave, he would have a hysteric Seeker to deal with and probably end up shooting Starscream as well if the panicky fool tried something stupid like he was bound to. There would be no end to Megatron's frustration then and he'd have one valuable but suspicious and one less valuable but incredibly alluring officer in the med bay. He most definitely couldn't afford that.

The fact that these lines of almost logical, if a little anger-influenced, reasoning processed in Megatron's CPU only after his shot had hit made them mostly useless. Well, at least he could nod to himself, for he'd chosen the better, less disgruntling, alternative in the end.

He quietly observed the petrified form of his Third in Command before letting his optics wander to the now-smoking Seeker and his graceless position on the floor; long limbs sprawled into every direction and charcoal-coloured face resting against the floor, the usually bright optics offline and the full lips ever-so-slightly parted in an unconscious mask of surprise and pain. The undoubtedly nasty wound responsible for the Seeker's current state hid from Megatron's sight against the floor; the silver mech could only see glowy rivulets of energon bleeding onto a blue servo, sparks of electricity spilling from between the long fingers clenched on the red chest.

It had been a good shot, Megatron mused. The Seeker's appetising appearance, all the silver mech could currently see of it, was not damaged too badly but Starscream's confusing behaviour had left the jet's body hand in hand with his consciousness. In the resulting enjoyable silence, the Decepticon leader could calmly observe the sleek frame and the little swirls of smoke emanating from it. A good shot indeed, but it had actually been a form of punishment and a way to remove a possible threat, which meant that he probably shouldn't get this distracted by his Second's offlined beauty.

Megatron cleared his vocaliser and, like always after these precise blasts that sent the colourful Seeker into stasis lock, turned to face the closest mech, ready to give the usual order … until he remembered that the mech at hand was Soundwave; until he remembered why his optics had the sight of an unconscious Starscream to devour at all.

"Soundwave."

The mech in question cringed, snapping his visor up from the prone form of the Decepticon Second in Command to look at the leader of same faction. It was quite easy for Megatron to see that under the visor and facemask usually guarding the blue mech's expressions, Soundwave was startled.

"_Soundwave,_" the silver mech growled again and fixed his glare onto the telepath who should've already realised that the gun-former wanted response. The fact that Megatron had said the mech's name two times and was casting a rather expectant glance at him should've been clues obvious enough even for a mech much dimmer and less telepathic than Soundwave.

The tape deck kept on staring for awhile, then jerked visibly back into the real world. "Lord Megatron?"

The Decepticon leader nodded towards the colourful frame of his Second – and made the mistake of letting his optics stop to examine it. His mind broke free once more, delightful memories of the movements of broad wings and beautifully fear-filled gasps and whispered words enthusiastically dancing about his CPU.

"... Lord Megatron?"

The call of his name, tentative and metallic, shook Megatron from his thoughts. "Hm?" He returned to the highly displeasing current moment with a blink of his optics. There was an order to give, and Megatron couldn't keep his dental plates from gritting when he forced it out in a low tone, "Take that pile of scrap into the med bay."

The blue mech twitched, retaining his silence from earlier and only staring at Megatron as if he had just told the telepath to rip off the Seeker's wings and make a surfboard out of them. This time it took a furious snarl from Megatron to wrench action out of the telepath, but at least Soundwave was back to his usual monotony when he eventually droned his customary _"As you command, Megatron."_.

The warlord had to tear his optics off and turn his back to Starscream's limp frame when the tape-deck crouched down to grab the Seeker.

It was ridiculous, Megatron knew that; but his servos still clenched into tight fists when he heard the telepath dragging _his_ Seeker out of the door. Into the corridor. Out of Megatron's sight.

The warlord almost bolted for the slowly closing door, and forcing himself to stay put felt harder than ever while listening the sound of the closing door. Moments later only silence kept him company, leaving Megatron to assure himself that he should trust Soundwave enough to let the mech drag the Seeker into the med bay without shadowing on his tail to watch his every action.

Besides, the Decepticon leader could always watch the surveillance tapes later and rip the Communications Officer into shreds if he'd discover anything that proved his jealousy over Starscream reasonable.

Megatron turned to regard the space Starscream's frame had previously occupied, optics boring into the floor as he tried to figure out what to think about certain occasions and feelings.

…

He'd need a good deal of high-grade to sort – wash – out the thoughts swarming in his processor.

* * *

The sounds reached his audio receptors as muffled echoes, bouncing back and forth in his processor – it was impossible to hear where one word started or ended or continued. To be precise, Starscream wasn't even sure if they were words, but he could feel them pulling him back into ache-filled reality from what had been a nice state of darkness and blissful unconsciousness.

The Seeker onlined his optical sensors to meet a far too bright light and, after quickly recalibrating his optics, a ceiling that wasn't the one of his quarters. It didn't take long to sum up all the facts, everything from the slowly defining feeling of pain to the slow process of leaving stasis lock, to arrive at the conclusion that the ceiling was very familiar all the same.

The med bay. The recognition of the place also put faces to the indistinct voices – the Constructicons, undoubtedly working on Starscream's frame to get whatever damage he had suffered repaired.

Starscream groaned, more to signal that he was nearly awake than out of actual pain.

"Ah, you're back."

The Seeker sat up with remarkable difficulty, feeling simultaneously both light and heavy. He blinked. The blur of bright green and purple approaching him was easily to identified as one of the Constructicons, Starscream didn't need to know more. "What," he cleared his vocaliser to change the weak croak into recognisable words, "… What happened?"

The Constructicon, Hook, as Starscream's gradually focussing optics confirmed, quirked an optic ridge. "I can't answer that. All I know is that Soundwave came dragging you here about five joors ago. We've been working on you since."

Starscream had to process the words for awhile, faceplates drawing into a deep frown. Pieces of thoughts slowly found their counterparts, the pieces gathering into complete memories. Soundwave..?

"Soundwave!" he shrieked, pitch so high and raw it stabbed even his own audio receptors.

The Seeker bolted up from the berth, sky-blue hands rising to grasp his helm as thoughts whirled through his mind, each new one making less sense than the previous. Struggling to keep his knee joints from giving proved impossible, the pieces of information too illogical to process upright after joors of unconscious stillness. He sank back onto the berth and vented a quick, meant-to-be-calming sigh that didn't soothe him at all, fingers drilling deeper and deeper into the plating of his helm.

"Uh, the damage was definitely Megatron's handiwork, if that helps any," one of the Constructicons offered tentatively, confusion audible in his tone.

Starscream disengaged his digits from his helm, optics narrowing even as he felt nearly thankful for the comment as its stupidity helped the Seeker summon up some of his usual annoyance. He shot the swarming Constructicons a glare that must've been quite a nasty one if Scavenger's flinch was of any indication. Starscream's vocaliser found its snappish retort mode after a bit of research, his answer a hateful hiss, "_That_ doesn't help at all."

The red jet jerked onto his feet again, ready to storm out of the med bay into direction secret to everyone including himself, when Hook caught his attention by clearing his vocaliser. The Constructicon seemed to ignore his shrill _"What!"_, stating that Starscream wasn't fit to leave yet in a calmly professional tone.

A quick tantrum and lots of shrieking later, with his wings quivering weakly, processor swimming and legs about to give, Starscream had to admit that Hook probably was right. He settled back onto the medical berth with an almost-pout on his lips, mind stuck between dead tired and Pit-damn confused as he drifted back into unconsciousness.

* * *

The fact that Megatron woke up into a splitting processor-ache was enough of a cruel hint that he most likely didn't want his memory files to boot – after all, the amount of high-grade he needed to summon a hangover like this was about the same as the amount of high-grade needed to consume to stop himself from thinking about unpleasant or confusing things.

The silver mech groaned, the pitifulness of the sound noteworthy considering that it had spilled from the lips of the one who was going to conquer the Universe. Sitting up also proved nearly impossible, but the Decepticon leader managed it with some gritting of his dental plates and an annoyed growl.

The worst was that he didn't need to ponder the reason for his current condition and the last night's drinking for long – Starscream, of course. Lately, so it seemed, the reason to _any_ problem or feeling or action had been Starscream.

Thoughts about last night also brought another thing to his mind, however, one he had completely disregarded yesterday in order to get over-energised – the interrupted meeting and all the actually important matters left unsolved. Megatron gladly occupied his processor with that subject, not willing to think about the unsolved Starscream Problem that kept on mocking him.  
_  
_Megatron offlined his optics in what could've passed as simple tiredness and hangover if not for the sigh that he heaved – the sound was heavy enough to drop onto and further through the floor of his quarters the moment it left his lips.

Why did everything always have to prove so complicated? Megatron had come so close to claiming the Seeker yesterday, only to be reminded of the jet's unpredictability and quick trigger-finger in the last astrosecond. Soundwave was a whole another story, which was exactly why Megatron had to grit his dental plates together while admitting himself that the yesterday's meeting had to be finished _and_ that he needed to hear someone else's opinions about his thoughts, too.

The only "someone else" with enough of a tactical mind available happened to carry the name of none other than his favourite tape deck.

* * *

Leaving the med bay felt like stepping into some kind of a spotlight, the possibility of danger in the forms of certain two mechs lurking around making Starscream's steps tentative and presence unusually small.

The Seeker had spent the last night in the med bay, the Constructicons' repair job of the Megatron-induced damage slow as usual – the shots addressed to Starscream were never lethal or too serious, and the Constructicon team seemed to have learnt that it was better to repair the Decepticon SIC slowly if only to make sure it took longer for him to end up in the med bay again – the longer the repairing process, the longer period both Megatron and Starscream had for calming down after whatever clash the damage derived from.

In this case, however, the solar cycle of repairs also meant that Megatron had had a whole day to further scheme whatever it was that the last week with its strange words and touches and closeness had been about. Starscream felt … uneasy. Quite uneasy, indeed – it surprised even himself that the feeling churned intense enough for him to stop in front of the door of not his, but his trinemates' shared quarters.

He needed no-one, never, but there were times when swallowing his pride and searching for the slightest hints of comfort seemed the only way to stay sane. Even then, knocking on the door and thus admitting to himself that he could use some help at the moment felt like sinking down to a far lower level.

The door opened to reveal Thundercracker's crimson optics which widened from their bored, half-offlined state almost immediately. "Starscream? What are you doing here?"

At the blue Seeker's surprised exclamation, the purple jet sprinted to the door as well, his faceplates drawing into a mix of surprise and excitement when Starscream sighed and asked, quietly, "Um... Can I come in? It's … I would appreciate if this reached your audios only."

Starscream cast his optics down when Thundercracker scrutinised him intently. Skywarp, on the other hand, had vanished from the doorway to go bounce about the quarters, finally returning to his blue trinemate to excitedly (and loud enough for Starscream to hear) whisper, "Hey, let him in already. He has something juicy to share!"

Starscream snapped his helm up to level a murderous glare at the purple Seeker, who grinned in return.

The blue jet spoke just when the Air Commander thought about shooting Skywarp for his cheekiness, "Took you long enough to realise you need help."

The red jet very much disliked the amused tone, but followed Thundercracker inside nevertheless, throwing a quick glance at the door to make sure it really closed fully behind him.

* * *

Megatron sat with his fingers tightly clenched on the armrests of his throne in the Control Room, facing Soundwave with something he hoped to resemble a neutral expression. The constant, uncontrollable narrowing of his optics, however, hinted that his faceplates were actually drawn into a sneer. At least the Third in Command remained respectively (fearfully) silent thanks to Megatron's outer appearance, patiently waiting for his leader to address him.

"The meeting yesterday," the silver Decepticon started, pausing to get rid of the growling tone, "We never got to discuss some matters thanks to the … interruption. Mostly what to do about the Autobots' surprising appearance in our region."

Soundwave stared at him for a moment, then nodded, radiating strange smugness that was explained moments later, "Affirmative. Soundwave: saw fit to send Laserbeak to monitor the area."

Megatron felt his optics fly wide, but even through the surprise, he started to remember why he needed Soundwave in his army. The tape deck had to possess the most initiative within the Decepticon warriors – and to think the telepath actually used it to take care of important matters!

Megatron had a faint suspicion that Soundwave's show of initiative was partly the Communications Officer's way to secure his own well-being – telepathic as he was, Soundwave must've felt threatened by Megatron's anger yesterday and now wanted to prove himself to make sure his limbs stayed intact.

"Excellent, Soundwave," Megatron uttered, lingering contempt and distrust towards the tape deck battling with the surprised appreciation Soundwave's words had awakened. Even with the battle unsettled, however, the Decepticon leader found it easier to find some professionalism from his CPU now. "Has Laserbeak discovered anything of importance?"

Soundwave shook his helm. "Negative."

"It might still be best to monitor the place for some time. We wouldn't like the Autobots to plot behind our backs. Especially when they're so close to our backs."

Soundwave nodded, then fell into silence and visible nervousness. Megatron felt his momentarily loosened grip on his throne's armrest tighten again as the tape deck obviously tried to find the courage to say something.

"What is it?" the Decepticon leader snapped when the silence threatened to stretch, earning a quick, uneasy peek from Soundwave.

"Query: … what about Starscream?"

Something hot and hateful shot out from Megatron's Spark to spread into his whole body, his expression tightening along with his grip on the armrests. He barely restricted himself from jumping onto his feet to loom over the blue mech, but the twitch of his cannon-arm must've been visible.

"What does this have to do with anything?"  
Megatron's low growl made Soundwave shrink in front of his throne.

"Fact: Starscream is ready to leave the med bay. The possibility that he will avoid Megatron: high..."

"And he will disregard his duties once again. I'm quite aware of this, Soundwave."

Soundwave jumped again, but soon it started to seem that the startle hadn't stemmed from Megatron's stern tone when the tape deck suddenly fell silent. As if he'd listened to something the silver mech couldn't hear. This theory was confirmed true when the telepath raised a hand to stop Megatron from hissing out an annoyed question. The Decepticon leader glared at the telepath, waiting until the blue hand lowered and the Communications Officer turned his attention back to Megatron. "Laserbeak reported. Three Autobot fliers arrived into the area two and half breems ago."

"What?"

"Laserbeak: hid and attempted to eavesdrop. Discoveris: none of real importance. Autobots: currently leaving."

Megatron was once again forced to snap out of his anger to enter a more leader-like mode. "So there is something going on there after all... Maybe..."

Soundwave raised his visor to meet Megatron's increasingly smug smirk. "Maybe?"

First time this solar cycle the Decepticon leader felt truly satisfied, finding slivers of his usual determination and control and genius. "I'll send Starscream and his trine to guard the place from further nosy Autobots visitors! He'll be of some use to the Decepticon cause and get a moment to cool his circuits."

Soundwave seemed dubious, then finally vocalised, "Fact: a simple task for three Seekers."

Megatron scowled, slightly, but announced then, "It's better to get him out of the base. I want to prevent any unnecessary harm and displeasure. Furthermore, there are some matters I have to think over."

The implication that he couldn't think with Starscream present practically screamed to be noticed, and maybe it was so humiliating only because it was true.

Soundwave, however, only droned,"Plan: seems reasonable."

* * *

Starscream had merely had time to fully step into his trinemates' quarters and give an affirmative answer to Thundercracker's question about if his visit had to do with _"the recent … something going on between you and Megatron" _when his comm.-link startled to life with a blip. And of course the red Seeker just had to know from whom the call came.

A moment later the Air Commander had to blink in surprise, though, as he was only ordered to arrive to the flight deck immediately – with his trinemates.

Starscream still couldn't dam a warm, liquid feeling that spilled into his systems from his Spark when his leader's raspy but neutral, even calm, voice sounded through the comm.-link. His Spark made a curious leap it shouldn't have – after all, he was nervous, _only_ nervous, to meet his Commander again after the latest events.

* * *

A joor later Megatron, along with the silent shadow of an almost-enough-trusted Third in Command, stood at the flight deck and waited for the three Seekers to arrive.

They did, a klik later, Starscream visibly tense even as he hid behind his trinemates while Megatron briefed them quickly about their mission.

The silver mech avoided looking at his Second, fixing his gaze to a point a few centimetres past a red shoulder-vent even as he addressed the jet who answered in quiet mumbles.

Their optics only met when the Seekers moved to wait for the tower to surface, Starscream turning to cast Megatron a quick glance that the silver mech greedily captured. Their optics locked onto each others', and time seemed to stop as they observed each other, unable to break the contact. Then the red Seeker's optics narrowed and his lips parted, some other emotion starting to seep into his previously nervous gaze.

Megatron found himself hoping that the deck hadn't decided open to the blue skies just then, as the Seeker startled and then proceeded to swirl around in apparent panic, his screechy tone wavering ever-so-slightly when he gave the two other Seekers the order to take to air.

Megatron never got to hear the nearly-spilled words that had brought such a strange frown onto the dark faceplates.


	10. Reluctant Revelations

** AN: **Thanks for the reviews.

* * *

**10. Reluctant Revelations**

* * *

Below the three flying Seekers, the dark sea gradually grew stormier and stormier – just like the uproar of feelings in Starscream's Spark.

His Spark was going wild in his chest, only because it refused to understand that a simple optic contact meant nothing. Sure, with Megatron so intently staring him, Starscream hadn't been able to restrain the shudders running up his frame, and yes, he had almost felt like maybe something ... – no way! –, but the weird feelings of certain curiosity and something more intense still had no right or reason to show up now. Megatron had shot him two days ago! Sent Starscream to the med bay for a solar cycle. Then again, that certainly wasn't anything new, and maybe that was the reason to the sudden renewal of the Seeker's excitement and interest about Megatron; those feelings surfacing when some of his fear had vanished after this potential comeback of normal life – even if by "normal life", Starscream meant being shot. Anyway, just like he'd been unable to tear his optics off Megatron's a few kliks ago, he was now unable to stop thinking about his leader.

And that certainly wasn't good for his concentration; he was on a mission, frag it!

On a mission with two irritatingly inquisitive trinemates, who were starting to get interested in his quietly annoyed huffs and occasional cringes that his wandering thoughts brought up. The Air Commander knew that the two could see his edginess, they had coexisted with Starscream for long enough to learn to read his moods even when he was in the supposedly inexpressive jet-mode.

Just like he'd predicted, their trine-link buzzed to life after a nanoklik, both of the two other jets gaining speed to fly on either side of him. Starscream growled and as a last resort, maintained speed to gain distance from his trinemates' silent scrutiny. To his great disappointment, the two refused to take the hint, catching up with him soon to once more fly beside him.

_'What is it?' _Starscream eventually snapped over the trine-link, refusing to slow down but no more trying to escape from his trinemates' insistent curiosity either.

_'You were about to tell us something back in the base,' _Thundercracker simply stated.

_'And thank Primus I came to my senses before had the chance to tell anything! I'm not going to discuss it. Not with you two,' _Starscream spat back, even if he still felt the same need for some understanding that had driven him towards his trinemates' quarters back in the Headquarters.

_'Aww, 'Screamer! We really wanna know what's going on!' _Skywarp interfered with a pitiful whine. As if that had made Starscream any readier to spill anything about him and his recent … problems. The purple jet continued soon, _'Hey! You know we totally saw the burning look you threw at Megatron. You'd better tell us what it's about or we'll tell everyone you … that you secretly desire our leader!'_

Something slammed into Starscream's face or, in this case, nose cone. Hard and unrelenting, a strange feeling of cold seeped into his circuitry when Skywarp said those words – a joke, meant to insult, provoke Starscream – out loud. Hearing the truth so carelessly tossed into the air in someone else's voice frequency was … shocking, to say the very least. It made something inside Starscream finally give in.

The red jet had transformed into his robot mode before he even registered giving his body such a command, his Spark burning in his chest as he spun around to point his Null-rays at the forms of his already transforming trinemates.

"Y-you shouldn't ..." Starscream tried to summon snappiness, some hate and disbelief, into his shock-weakened voice, "You shouldn't say things like that! Disgusting!"

He could see the frowns growing on his trinemates' pale faceplates. Thundercracker dared to venture a little closer after a moment, his movements careful and slow as his face started to reflect real worry. Starscream gulped, turning both of his guns in panic to point at the blue Seeker to make him back away. Starscream didn't want to discuss this. Didn't want to think about this, not now. They had a mission, and the fear for accidentally revealing any more things made the red Seeker feel more dutiful than ever.

"We're on a mission!" he squeaked, his desperation leaking into the pitiful sound and making obvious it was a panicked attempt to get out of this situation.

Thundercracker flew closer, optics locking into Starscream's, concern pouring into the tri-coloured Seeker's core from the red gaze. The red Seeker couldn't help but lower his guns. The gnawing feeling, deriving from the fight of weakness and pride, only grew stronger inside Starscream when the blue jet spoke, voice as calm as the light blue of his plating, "So is this all about..?"

Starscream forced himself to look down, taking a deep intake. He couldn't break now. He had fared full well on his own for who knew how many vorns, had gritted his teeth and easily to kept his "secret desire", like Skywarp had said, hidden behind his pride. Never felt the need to hear any comment about it from anyone. The fact that his trinemates' gentle prying was making his Spark clench didn't mean he should throw all those vorns of safe secretiveness away.

"Hey... Screamy. You know we can't continue the mission if you don't spill it. You aren't very, uh, reliable when you're upset."

Starscream's vocaliser hitched as the purple Seeker's surprisingly compassionate tone made all of the last weeks' barely-controlled distress and fear turn into one massive wave of weakness. It crashed over him with force that made his sanity slip away and his vocaliser break free in a raw, almost offended scream, "Very well, it's true! _I want him! Have wanted for vorns!_"

There should've been relief, the weight should've been rolled off his Spark after that revelation – wasn't telling someone supposed to help? –, but Starscream only felt a brush of fear cold as the space force him into tense silence. Optics shifting from Thundercracker to Skywarp and back, he could see nothing but surprise and shock on their faces, the blue Seeker's lips parted in surprise whereas Skywarp's mouth was honestly hanging agape.

No wonder Starscream had never felt the need to tell anyone. It hadn't helped at all. An eternity passed, the only sounds filling it the wind's rough humming, the rumble of the growing waves beneath them, and the whining sound Starscream could only assume to be the creak of his tense joints. Saying it had been a mistake – oh, what Starscream would've given to possess Skywarp's teleporting ability right now. The idea of vanishing sounded so tempting at the moment.

Thundercracker's vague, shaky intake snapped Starscream's attention onto the blue Seeker, his processor starting to overheat under the strain as it tried to foretell what words his deep voice would rumble, tried to prepare the Air Commander for whatever truth those words would hold.

"... Huh. For vorns?"

A dash of something warm pulsed into Starscream's Spark at those surprised – surprised, not disgusted nor cunning! – words. It shouldn't have, he knew, but it did. It didn't take away the shock of revealing his best held secret, or keep distress from swarming into his processor, but some of its tentative honesty leaked into his voice when Starscream answered, "I... You don't think it's ..? I, uh... That's right. For vorns. Ever since he started to, um... Shortly after my promotion to the SIC."

His trinemates fell silent again, optics widened in what had to be shock. Starscream gulped and cast his frowned face down in shame and uncertainty. "I-I wasn't supposed to enjoy it. I didn't, at first. Then I... He was so close, always and... I know it was punishment and he doesn't like it and he's always so angry after it and his overloads... Slag it, I only want to touch him! I want to connect to him and it would be perfect and..."

Starscream realised he had started ranting about way too personal things when the feeling of being gaped at grew intense enough to draw his optics back to his trinemates. His own faceplates startled to reflect the sudden panic that entered his mind when he understood what he had just let spill. Hysteria coloured his scream with shrill denial astroseconds later, "**No!** Don't, I didn't mean … forget it!"

"Uh, right. We really have a mission. Maybe, um, maybe you could tell more as we continue? I... I think don't fully understand everything."

Starscream couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Thundercracker so openly surprised, or heard such shock in his deep rumble.

Starscream nodded mutely, widened stare locking into the blue jet's – widened, as well – optics. They simultaneously turned their gazes to Skywarp after a moment, finding the purple Seeker staring back at them in a similar state of stupefaction.

"Yea. We should go," the teleporter muttered. He shook his helm, apparently trying to brush away his surprise.

Starscream nodded, then turned and transformed quickly, waiting until his trinemates did the same before resuming their earlier course.

The wind pushing towards them shoved heavy clouds in their way and made the dark sea under them turn wild.

* * *

Megatron had left the flight deck after staring the shrinking forms of the three Seekers – one in particular – until they vanished into the dark clouds. The Decepticon leader couldn't name the weird pulse of feeling as any he knew, but it had sped up and turned into an impatient dance of his Spark when even the last glimpses of red plating had disappeared.

The silver mech shook his helm, returning to the Control Room with the equally silent Soundwave on his tail. The telepath felt Megatron's confusion, undoubtedly, but the Decepticon Commander didn't particularly care – he was about to finally admit something he should've admitted to himself solar cycles ago, anyway: that he needed Soundwave. Not only as the skilled warrior and tactic, but also as the telepath loyal only to him. He needed the tape deck's advice. His help.

Megatron needed help with his Starscream problem, he saw it now. During weeks of scheming and planning and different tactics, he had made little to no progress with the Seeker. Megatron had been quite confident about it all at the beginning, so admitting that nothing had really worked stung. It stung even more to realise that he had come down to asking someone's help. Soundwave's.

Of course, the tape deck was probably very aware of what was going on anyway – he'd witnessed both Megatron's rage turning into lust after the failed mission all those weeks ago, as well as observed and got his own share of Megatron's violent, jealousy-induced anger during the following weeks.

Maybe this rather counted as finding his pride than as tossing it aside, actually – the telepath knew, after all, and surely admitting it all and taking care of these problems was more fitting for a Decepticon leader than dwelling in them and letting them bring suspicion and jealousy into his mind.

He sank down into his throne.

"There is … a certain matter we need to discuss," Megatron said at last, tone somewhat tired even as the words dropped in a pace that made his uneasiness about them obvious.

Soundwave turned to direct his red visor at Megatron, tilting his helm slightly. "Subject: Starscream?"

The Decepticon leader's fingers quickly found the dents they had made into his throne's arms earlier that day, sinking back into them. Still, the surge of possessive annoyance behind the clenching of his digits also showed him why exactly he was, and should be, talking about this with the blue mech. A deep intake loosened his grip a little, but even after it his voice still resembled a hiss, "Precisely."

"Megatron: wants to know what Soundwave wants from Starscream," the telepath stated, not even bothering to disguise it a question.

The Decepticon leader felt so stupid – a rare feeling to someone who had long ago learnt that his mistakes were never his own fault –, but nodded reluctantly. Megatron tried to make up for the shame swimming in his processor by willing his tone into a cool one, "Yes. Maybe you could explain a few things."

The silver mech could see amusement in the way Soundwave quickly swept his gaze first down and then back up his sitting form, before the visor locked onto his optics once more.

"As you command, Megatron," the tape deck droned, somehow managing to let the same amusement leak into his emotionless monotone, too. Megatron growled, warning the other as well as encouraging him to continue. Soundwave nodded and did as the annoyed sound had ordered by droning, "Soundwave: loyal to the cause. Motives: to ensure the best of this army."

Megatron couldn't help but let out a new growl. He knew this, very well – so why did the faint thread of suspicion and distrust squirm into his mind?

"And what does this have to do with Starscream?" he demanded, hating the possessiveness that sneaked into his voice.

Soundwave sighed. Actually _sighed_, tiredly, as if he'd been talking to someone less intelligent than him. Megatron's optics narrowed in annoyance.

"Soundwave: dislikes Starscream and his position in Decepticon hierarchy," the telepath informed, then rushed to continue before Megatron's anger had time to spark from such an obvious statement, "Megatron almost took the Seeker offline after the mission a few weeks ago. Soundwave: would have became Second in Command."

"So you were disappointed when I … hm, forgave Starscream? Let him live," Megatron pressed, glaring at the tape deck.

"Negative. Mostly surprised. Curious. Starscream's thoughts: … unexpected considering how close to deactivation he came. Soundwave decided to investigate further."

"And? What did you find, then?" Megatron cursed the strange, impatient feeling that danced within his core. A feeling of … anxiety, anticipation? Something in the tape deck's words had lit it up in him. The worst was that Megatron had no idea why.

"Megatron: has to wait. Soundwave will tell. Megatron has to listen now."

The gun-former snarled.

"Starscream: had secrets. Secrets: seemed worrisome, possibly harmful to the Decepticons and Megatron back then. Best course of action: to blackmail the Seeker into silence. Soundwave: attempted it but was interrupted. By Megatron."

"Back in the corridor? What were you about to tell him?"

"Soundwave wanted Starscream to keep quiet to avoid any further confusion or harm caused to Megatron and the Decepticon cause."

"Quiet about what? I don't have time for your evasiveness, Soundwave," Megatron growled out, fingertips digging deeper into the material of the armrests.

"Megatron: has to listen." Soundwave repeated himself. "Soundwave: read Megatron's mind in the corridor. Sensed jealousy and possessiveness towards Starscream. Perspective: renewed. Fact: Soundwave became uncertain, didn't know what to do."

The telepath stopped there, almost as if he'd waited for Megatron to interrupt, then did as told when Megatron muttered a reluctant _"Proceed."_ instead.

"More time was needed. More information. Soundwave made surprising observations: Megatron … desired Starscream. Megatron's plans considering this want and the Seeker: rash. Reckless. Soundwave: tried to hint this but Megatron became annoyed and suspicious."

Megatron scowled, nearly offended. "You were acting suspiciously."

"And too close to Starscream." Soundwave once again managed to bring emotion, smirk, into his drone. Megatron snorted at the jab, gesturing the other to continue with his explanation. "Megatron: made attempts at the Seeker. Starscream: fearful. Expected outcome: conflict and harm. Soundwave: tried to avert this. Megatron's distrust towards Soundwave only grew."

The tape deck stopped, either to gather his own thoughts or to give Megatron time to take in all the information. The Decepticon leader let go of one armrest to lean his head on the hand in confusion and tiredness. "Continue."

"Next noteworthy incident: the meeting. Soundwave: sensed trouble from the beginning. Megatron: seemed confident to … conquer the Seeker then. Starscream: was increasingly nervous. Soundwave chose to observe the situation. Starscream's attempt to escape: expected. Megatron's reaction and further actions as well. But..."

"But?"

"Starscream's thoughts: unexpected, again. Soundwave: saw a possible way to solve the situation and infiltrated Starscream's mind. The Seeker: shocked at this. Soundwave: suggested that Starscream told his secret to Megatron, but the Seeker drew attention to Soundwave by refusing. Rest: is history."

Megatron cycled a deep sigh. Deep, deep sigh, and then finally vocalised the question the answer of which he'd been anticipating ever since Soundwave had mentioned finding something unexpected from the Seeker's mind, "What did you read from his mind, then? What did you suggest him to tell me? He reacted rather … violently."

Soundwave shifted his gaze from Megatron, his posture slumping ever-so-slightly. The tape deck was nervous. "At the moment, the best solution seemed to be to get Megatron and Starscream to talk with each other. Soundwave's suggestion: that Starscream told Megatron that he …" A nervous pause. "That he desires Megatron."

The next few astroseconds hurried past in a blur, and a moment later Megatron was surprised to find himself snarling into the blue mech's faceplates, the telepath pinned into the wall by his throat. The Decepticon leader's Fusion Cannon had aligned itself with the guarded face.

The silver mech's anger was boiling over; anger caused by incredulity and surprise.

"What did you say?" Megatron demanded in a threatening growl, tightening his grip around Soundwave's neck to assure him that he wanted to hear the truth this time – even if the excited pulsing of the warlord's Spark would've gladly taken Soundwave's previous words for truth.

"Starscream: desires Megatron," the Communications Officer answered, monotone voice only slightly weakened under the Decepticon leader's tight grasp.

Megatron almost opted for blasting Soundwave's head clean off, his dental plates crunching against each other and livid red flaring from his optics onto the inexpressive face in front of his. "_The truth_, Soundwave!"

"The truth: Starscream wants Megatron. Another true statement: Soundwave isn't suicidal. Question: doesn't Megatron desire the Seeker as well? Conclusion: Megatron should be exhilarated upon hearing this."

The silver mech's grip loosened, his servos dropping down along with his optics as he backed a few steps.

Starscream desired him? Maybe it made sense, now that he thought about it. There had to be some sort of reason behind the Seeker's delightful reactions to his touches, after all – Megatron just had pretty much forgotten about things like that lately, pretty much … viewed Starscream as a tempting thing to conquer rather than a sentient being.

The warlord raised his gaze back to the blue mech in the most blank stare he'd ever observed anyone with, and the dullness of his voice matched the stare perfectly when he asked, "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"Fact: Megatron would not have believed," Soundwave calmly stated.

The Decepticon leader shook his helm in quiet shock. "I … need some time to think this through. Report to me immediately if something happens."

"As you command, Megatron."

* * *

"... and he's been touching me lately! I have no idea why, it doesn't make any sense at all! Two days ago I was only a little distracted during a meeting and immediately he's pinning me to wall and … frag it! I... couldn't do anything, he didn't listen, so I shot him in the face. The fragger retaliated by sending me to the med bay with a potentially lethal wound!"

"How horrible! He actually dared to shoot you after you failed as a SIC in the meeting and shot him in the face? Poor 'Screamer!" Skywarp exclaimed in a theatrical voice.

Starscream growled, even as he was slightly thankful that the purple Seeker was acting normally enough even after the two had pried the truth – his secret, _all_ of it – out of the red Seeker during the flight. "Shut up, Skywarp! I only shot him because it's the only way to make him listen to me!"

There came a heavy sigh from Starscream's left. "Calm down, you two. Let me recap. So, Starscream, you've desired Megatron ever since he … started 'punishing' you by, uh, 'facing - -"

"Argh! I said already, it's always only half-connected! It isn't anything like _that_! Although he _did_ ask me to 'face him the first time... slag it, why did I refuse then..."

"- - um, yes. So Megatron … did that and you liked it? So much you actually... started to like him, and..?"

"I was young! And it happened every other year, how was I supposed to ignore it?"

"I know, I know. You've used that excuse ten times already. So, it continued and you … liked Megatron even more. Secretly, never telling him anything?"

Starscream growled annoyed at having to hear this story again – he'd went through explaining it all only kliks ago! "Yes, until he was recently about to deactivate me and I, uh, was excited by the closeness and accidentally let a little moan slip. I told you this once already, I can't see why it's so hard to internalise!"

"Calm down, Starscream. And after that incident he's been trying to get close to you, been 'pawing' your wings and all?"

Starscream flew in defiant silence, refusing to answer his blue trinemate anymore. He had already told them, in quick and uneasy sentences and constantly regretting that he'd ever said anything, and now they couldn't just take it in on their own?

The next words sounded from his left, where Skywarp flew in his dark jet-mode, "You do realise that's kinda fragged-up, don't you 'Screamy? First you let him 'face you and never get any attention from him, for vorns. Then you give a hint about your feelings with a little sound and the next day he's all over you, and you start to complain about him paying attention – frag it, _physical attention_ – to you. You're glitched!"

"Shut up, Skywarp! I don't need your worthless opinions!" Starscream shrieked for what had to be the hundredth time during the last breem.

"He has a point, Starscream. Why can't you accept Megatron's attention now?"

"Because he's scheming! You two are just too blue-opticced to understand it! He's not to be trusted!"

Skywarp didn't seem to be able to keep his vocaliser muted, "I think you're the thick one, Screamer. So Megatron's started 'scheming' the exact moment you let a hint of your burning love for him slip?"

"'Burning love' my afterburners, fool! And he only wants to humiliate me with his actions!"

"Primus damn it, Screamer! He most likely wants to 'face you just as much as you want to 'face him! Why is that so hard for you to realise!"

"Hey, you two - -"

"Is your processor malfunctioning? There's no way he could feel anything for me! Megatron is the most despicable, disgustingly cunning mech I've ever met!"

"But still you love him?"

"Ugh! I don't _love_ him, fool!"

"**I said _'hey, you two!'_**"

Thundercracker rarely raised his voice, and hearing the usually calm and collected voice neither calm nor collected shocked both Starscream and Skywarp into immediate silence.

"Thank you. I take it you haven't noticed something weird?"

"What?" Starscream asked, startled nervousness leaking into his voice.

"We are here. These are the exact coordinates Megatron gave us."  
Thundercracker transformed to spare the others a serious glance. "Wasn't Laserbeak supposed to meet us here? Megatron said it'd leave only after we arrived?"

Starscream transformed in alarm, glancing down to take in the place. It didn't seem special in any way, only dark craggy shore with its sharp cliffs that dove down into the sea that, at the moment, beat against them in violent waves.

The purple Seeker was soon in his robot mode too, the two others joining Starscream in confused observing of the scenery spreading under them.

"We're here to guard what? A cliff?" Skywarp finally asked, a deep frown on his face. "There's no place the birdie could be hiding in, either."

The Air Commander stiffened, a feeling of alarm creeping into his mind and running up and down the backs of his wings in cold chills. "Something is wrong. See if you can spot Laserbeak, but keep close to each other!"

Starscream gestured the others to take off into different directions before transforming himself, wings and mind tense as he dove down to map the area. He flew in wide circles, descending to get a better view of the rocky terrain and the little bushes colouring it.

Nothing. Nothing seemed out of place. Starscream decelerated, contemplating whether to land or to seek his trinemates and group again, when an agitated scream ripped through their trine-link,  
_'Fly here fast!__I found both Laserbeak __**and **__the reason the birdie's in hiding!'_

Starscream fired up his thrusters, speeding up towards Skywarp's location further to inland. Nervousness quickly changing into trepidation, the red Seeker scanned the ground he rushed over, screeching to halt and transforming simultaneously when he saw the purple and blue forms of his trinemates flying far below him … Along with a pack of Autobots consisting, worrisome enough, of all five of the Aerialbots.

His trinemates were currently dodging shots the best they could – their best wasn't that good in this case, as the Autobots overpowered them two (and half) to one. Starscream observed the situation in growing distress, desperately trying to decide if he should dive down to help slag the Autobots or to flee unharmed while he still could.

He ended up transforming into jet-form again, shooting down in an insane dive, his Null-rays spitting not-so-precise but effective blasts onto the forms of the Autobots. He knocked one of the Aerialbots offline without bothering to check who it was, then pulled up when the ground started to near to sweep past Slingshot, hitting the loudmouth in a wing.

Starscream could see his trinemates mirroring his actions. The two other Decepticons had already taken down Fireflight and were now accelerating through the laserfire in a Seeker-like, graceful fashion – which was quite a surprise, considering their usual performance during training sessions.

The red Seeker's brief lapse into his thoughts was rudely interrupted when something crashed against his jet-frame, cracking his cockpit glass and tearing a surprised screech out of him.

A moment later Starscream, desperately trying to stop his free-fall towards the dark rocks maliciously waiting to meet his frame, realised just how bad the situation was.

His trinemates were overpowered. They could be hurt badly.

Starscream shrieked in pain and fear as servos locked around his frame, one twisting his wing painfully. With his attacker's weight added to his own, the speed with which the ground kept nearing was way too fast. Pit damn it, _he _was going to be be hurt **badly**, and soon!

Processors washed blank by an overwhelming wave of fear, Starscream opened a comm.-link with the first mech that sprung to his mind and cried out his name in a desperate plea – forgetting to feel the shame that should've come with calling this particular someone for help.

_'Megatron!'_


	11. Anticipation

**AN: **Thanks for the reviews! I hope you enjoy.**  
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11. Anticipation**

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_'**Soundwave!**' _

His Third in Command was there in a klik, quite remarkable performance considering the number of floors between Soundwave's own quarters and the Control Room, whose door had slid open to reveal the dark blue mech and his intense red stare.

"Megatron: called for Soundwave?"

The silver mech could hear a touch of alarm in the monotone, that speckle of emotion most likely caused by the tone with which the Decepticon leader had called the Communications Officer – not that the urgency of Megatron's voice even started to match to the shrill desperation that, in the form of his name, had shook Megatron from his thoughts nearly two kliks ago. The shriek had echoed in Megatron's processor ever since, and judging from the chills still running through his body the fear in it had been, to some degree, contagious. It didn't help at all that after Starscream's panicked call of the Decepticon leader's name, nothing but an ominous buzz of static had answered Megatron's attempts to contact the Seeker again.

Megatron sighed and offlined his optics for a moment to organise his thoughts before acknowledging Soundwave. "I did. Starscream … Have you heard anything from the Seeker trine after they left for their mission?"

The Decepticon leader barely caught the questioning look Communications Officer had obviously meant to regard him with, since it was gone an astrosecond later, wiped away by a surprised startle of the blue mech's frame. Megatron quirked an optic ridge when the telepath fell silent, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

"What is it?" the Decepticon leader demanded after a moment, his harsh tone turning the visor up to his optics from the ground where Soundwave's gaze had lingered for awhile.

"Laserbeak: has not reported yet."

The anxiety started to swirl faster in the silver mech's CPU, making his joints tense in an unpleasant way. "He was supposed to report back to you once the Seekers arrived to their destination."

Soundwave only nodded, and the silent affirmation didn't bring any ease into Megatron's mind. "Something has gone wrong. Starscream contacted me a few kliks ago, but the link cut into static before he told the reason of his call."

"Soundwave: attempts to reach the others," the telepath informed, the Control Room falling into concentrated silence.

Megatron waited, each passing astrosecond dragging on longer than the previous. He could read the results of Soundwave's tries from the blue mech's body language even before he activated his vocaliser. "Laserbeak and Seekers not answering. They may have other concerns. Speculation: Autobots have made an appearance. Starscream's comm.-link: deactivated. Possible reason: communication components damaged."

Megatron glared at the tape deck, if only because the Communications Officer had failed to mention what else could explain the buzz of static replacing his Second's high, raspy voice. "That, or Starscream's offline. Or worse," the gun-former reminded, tone forced into calm seriousness even when he couldn't find such placidity from his troubled processor. "It seems there truly is something weird going on in there. We need to find out what and why. And chase the Autobots away."

"Suggestion: Soundwave, triple-changers and Coneheads leave immediately."

"Yes, that firepower should be enough to answer to any Autobot attack. With me leading you, naturally," Megatron answered, sending the telepath a sidelong glare – something told him that Soundwave hadn't left his leader's name unmentioned accidentally or because his participation was obvious. True to his predictions, Megatron spotted apparent unease in the way Soundwave shifted his visor aside.

"Suggestion: Megatron waits here," the Communications Officer finally said. "Megatron: seems confused already. Starscream's presence and possible damaged state: likely to increase unease. Best option: stay here."

Megatron bolted up from his seat, dental plates bared in a snarl. "Growing bold, aren't we? You'd better remember your place, Soundwave."

The telepath was swiftly back to his usual compliant replies, "As you command, Lord Megatron."

"That's better. I'll be leading the mission. Contact the Coneheads and triple-changers and explain the situation to them," Megatron let his previously threatening pose relax into one that reflected determination … and maybe a touch of his still-present anxiety in the tenseness of his shoulders. "We will leave in a breem. You should hurry, Soundwave."

"As you command."

Some kliks later Megatron was pleased to see that his Third in Command had indeed been quick about it. The Coneheads stood already at the flight deck when the Decepticon leader arrived, two out of three jets waiting in various degrees of silence while the third one, Thrust, saw fit to blab about the upcoming mission. Megatron raised an optic ridge at the red jet's bragging, then followed the example of the two other Coneheads and paid no further attention to Thrust's diligent monologue.

The door soon slid open again, Soundwave entering the deck, followed by Astrotrain and Blitzwing. The Decepticon leader turned to face his Third in Command. "Excellent, Soundwave. You have explained the situation to them?"

"Affirmative."

"Good. We best go then. Blitzwing, you were the first to notice the Autobot activity in the area. Show the way."

"Yes, Megatron."

The silver Decepticon moved to meet the darkened skies, waiting for Blitzwing to walk up to him. "Decepticons, take flight! And remember to keep your sensors sharp, we want to find out what about our destination intrigues the Autobots so."

A satisfying chorus of affirmative, and mostly excited, answers preceded the concentrated silence that Megatron's own visible seriousness seemed to encourage.

The anxiety had flown back to torture the silver mech with its unfamiliar presence, and the prickling feeling only intensified as the Decepticons started to near their destination.

* * *

Starscream came back online after only – that was what his chronometer claimed, anyway – a few nanokliks had passed, the battlemode his systems had adopted uneasy with the concept of falling offline or into stasis lock. The Seeker's sensors started to recalibrate from the violent impact with the rough rocks now scratching his jet-form's belly. The ground had met his frame wearing an easily-imagined sadistic grin.

Unfortunately, the memory file about his crash landing soon reminded Starscream that he should have been in excruciating pain. In the same instant, clearly summoned up by the thoughts about it, waves of ripping, hot agony washed over him. Starscream shrieked out a hoarse litany of curses, only to stop mid-word when a new flash of lesser but way more surprising pain radiated through his wing.

"Still online after that crash? You're tougher than you look, Deceptiscrap!"

The words sounded from close enough to make Starscream realise that the only thing pushing him to the rocky ground was not the pain torturing his systems. The sensors on his fuselage slowly registered the weight that lay on him.

A nanoklik later the weight proved to have rather cruel hands, as a servo began to twist the Seeker's left wing into an unnatural angle. Starscream screeched, then braced himself for the storm of warning messages and raging pain he knew to come and forced his body to transform, damaged parts screeching and crunching against each other while trying to find their own places. Another shriek of agony broke free from Starscream's vocaliser, his limbs twitching helplessly under the vice torrent of pain that tried to push him into unconsciousness. Starscream resisted the tempting idea, finding himself on his back under the yellow Autobot twin who was currently trying to find the balance the Seeker's sudden transformation had stolen from him.

"Get off me, weakling!" Starscream screamed, wriggling from under the yellow Lamborghini to load a nasty kick into the vain Autobot's faceplates – nasty both to the Seeker's own aching leg joints as well for Sunstreaker's face – and fired up his heel-thruster as it made contact with the other's face. It worked surprisingly well, the fool rolling off him in a blur of twisting limbs.

The Seeker climbed onto his pedes with considerable difficulty and freely dropping pained groans. The jet's expressions of pain, however, were nothing compared to the yellow Autobot's cries which spilled from between the yellow fingers clutched against his injured face. Starscream managed a smug, sadistic smirk even through the agony consuming his sensor net, raising his Null-rays for an easy shot at the Autobot twin … only to remember that one didn't make "twins", and that where there was one, there regrettably was the other too.

"You won't do that to my bro!"

The protests of Starscream's battered frame – not the rocks _again!_ – obviously went unnoticed by the red twin, who had tackled him onto the ground before the Seeker had time to realise that he was now even more damaged and fighting two 'Bots at the same time. The rocks didn't fail to greet him, and their sadistic hospitality had already become familiar to Starscream mere kliks ago. The weight on him, though this time on his robot mode's back, also reminded the jet very much of the previous time these same rocks had dug into his armour.

His screeches came out muffled against the rocks his face was pressed into, his attempts to fight back brought to an abrupt stop when fresh pain lanced through his back. Sideswipe had decided to demonstrate his cruel tendency to target the most vulnerable places by grabbing the wing already twisted in the crash and later in his yellow twin's servos, wrenching it up and backwards until Starscream could feel some of the minor cables and connections starting to snap. The Seeker howled, thrashing violently to gain at least some distance between his wings and the twins, preferably enough to answer their attacks with ones of his own.

"How's this feel, Decepticreep? You don't go aiming at my brother!"

Starscream ceased his wriggling and snapped his face up to scream at the red Autobot, his voice filled all the defiance he could find to keep it from reverting into the pitiful whine his vocaliser actually wanted to let out at the moment. "Oh, what if I aim _you_?"

Wedging his arm from between his own frame and the sharp rocks hurt more than it had any right to, the searing pain and the uncontrollable trembling of his whole lower arm indicating severe damage to the limb. The Decepticon gritted his dental plates, charging his Null-ray and firing a powerful blast at the red Autobot on his back. A _thump_ and sudden easing of the weight on his frame made a quick leap of triumph warm Starscream's Spark for the short moment he could spend ignoring the presence of the yellow Lamborghini.

"You won't get away with that!"

The Seeker fought his way onto his shaky pedes, optics turning to the yellow bot lunging at him. The remaining twin was on him way too fast, the hand Starscream raised to protect his face with soon useless as he couldn't find enough strength to hold it there. The moment the bright blue of his own plating left his field of vision, a yellow object replaced it, the taste of energon spilling into his mouth telling oh-so-helpfully that the blur of motion had actually been a fist slamming into his face. Starscream's processor started to swim alarmingly, certainly not clarified by a few more well-aimed punches ramming into his faceplates. When Stasrcream finally found an opportunity to retaliate, the means was at least easy and effortless – the energon pooling in his mouth made for a great way to distract Sunstreaker, the Lamborghini caught by surprise when Starscream spat at him. With his enemy momentarily blinded by a coat of oral lubricant and energon dripping down his face, Starscream jumped back, squeezing any power he could into his remaining Null-ray weapon, ready to shoot the twin and even readier to fall into stasis lock in relative safety after that.

The feeling of the Autobot's strong foot hitting his mid-section ruined all of Starscream's plans, his body once again sent flying to the ground. The grip of agony became unrelenting, panic finally finding enough room to burst into full blossom in his processors – all the warning messages flashing in front of his optics, all the pain even the heat of battlemode couldn't drown anymore … he could fall into stasis lock any moment now, fall into helplessness.

The Autobots would have no difficulty imprisoning him. They'd lock him into a cell that barely fitted his wings, keep him from the skies in dark loneliness with no escape. Megatron would never come to his rescue. He'd spent the rest of his life as caged into a tight space and panic and he didn't want to and he needed help and _his comm.-link didn't work_!

The flash of panic robbed him of all sense, and after he had wrung out all the power he could to charge his weapon for one last shot … Starscream didn't even aim.

* * *

"Note: these are the coordinates we gave the Seekers. Where Blitzwing first spotted the Autobots and where Laserbeak saw them earlier today."

"I can see nothing special about this place," Megatron growled, distress leaking into his voice. He forced himself into more strategical mindset, however. "We better disband. The Seekers couldn't have made it very far from here. Keep an optic out for them as well as for Autobot fools."

The Coneheads and the two triple-changers were gone with curt gestures of acknowledgement, leaving the Decepticon leader and Soundwave to float in the heavy air. Megatron stared at the dark cliffs, then shifted his gaze to the raging waves, and didn't know what to do at all.

"Suggestion: Megatron and Soundwave participate in the search for Autobots and the reason they are here."

"And look for the Seekers and Laserbeak while we're at it," Megatron added, almost thankful for Soundwave's sober stance and calming presence. "Tune your sensors. We won't leave until we find some answers and the missing Decepticons."

"Affirmative."

The two Decepticons took off, scanners adjusted to their finest and speed as fast as possible.

Their search didn't last long.

The Decepticon leader couldn't explain the flicker of something akin to relief he felt when his optics fell upon the sight of Starscream's purple and blue trinemates – and explaining the heavy, choking feeling that took over his core when realised that his Second was nowhere to be seen would've been even more impossible. Megatron could hear Soundwave drone something behind him, but he ignored it in favour of a hurried dart for the Seekers that had landed onto the dark, rocky ground. Megatron touched ground straight in front of them, barely finding enough of the leader from himself to ask about things other than Starscream first.

"What happened here?" the gun-former demanded, taking in the damaged states of the two Seekers – Skywarp wouldn't be flying home on his own wings, that was for sure, and Thundercracker didn't seem too good either. Still, the both seemed proud enough for Seekers as battered as them, which served to indicate that whoever had battled them had limped for escape in an even worse state.

Thundercracker was the first to recover from the surprise their leader's sudden appearance had caused. "Well, we arrived nearly one joor ago, and made contact with the Autobots soon after. The Aerialbots were here before us, we crashed into them while searching for Laserbeak who was nowhere in sight. We found him here with the Aerialbots and he's now …" the blue Seeker seemed to scan the area, a confused frown on his face, before his optics fell onto Soundwave who had landed and taken his place at Megatron's side – just like Laserbeak had taken his usual spot on the tape deck's shoulder. "Well, Laserbeak's here. Anyway, we tried to dispose of the Aerialbots, but they fled before we could finish them off. We were just about to contact the HQ. I guess more Autobots are going to show up soon."

Megatron heaved a sigh. "Were there other Autobots in here before?" the Decepticon leader asked. Thundercracker answered him with a quick shake of his helm. "Very well. Then we can probably call the Coneheads and triple-changers here too, in case more Autobots indeed feel the need to scrap themselves by coming here. There must be something in this place that interests them... You didn't happen to find out what, did you?"

Skywarp was the one to answer this time, "No, sir. I heard the Aerialbots say something about guarding something. Prolly something to do with energy readings, but my audios have been ringing after that damn idiot Air Raid crashed into me."

"Soundwave," Megatron demanded shortly.

The Communications Officer stepped forward, then announced, "Buzzsaw: eject. Operation: scan the area."

The Cassetticon let out a squawk before disappearing into the forest that shyly spread inland and gradually replaced the rocky terrain of the shore.

"Excellent. Now, Thundercracker, Skywarp... Where's your insufferable glitch of a trineleader?" Megatron finally asked what he had wanted to for the whole time. He barely remembered to address the missing Seeker with insulting words, a disturbing fact that demonstrated the current extents of his anxiety.

"Oh Pit, Starscream! Where is he?"

"I thought you'd keep an optic on him, TC! He's the trineleader, you're s'posed to take care of him too!"

"We're a trine, idiot! You could've done that as well! Frag," the blue jet muttered, glancing around with apparent worry before turning his optics to Megatron. "He was here when we fought the Aerialbots, but the last I saw him was more than a breem ago. Starscream really ain't a teamplayer..."

"I'm aware of that," the Decepticon leader stated.

The purple jet joined the discussion soon, his frown tight and optics narrow, "Uh, TC, didn't you say something about the idiot Autobot twins showing up at some point?"

"Frag," the blue Seeker breathed out, optics widening. "I thought I saw them, with their jetpacks and all, but... There's nothing left of Starscream's wings if he's faced their slagged-up jet judo alone! We need to find him!"

Megatron found himself somewhat surprised by the concern the two Seekers were displaying for their trineleader, but he pushed his interest aside, turning his attention to more urgent subjects. "Soundwave, you remain here and wait for the Coneheads and triple-changers to arrive. Contact me immediately if Buzzsaw finds out anything about the Autobots' purposes. Should more of them show up, make them regret it and inform me."

Once again Megatron could see that the tape deck wanted to protest, but right now the silver mech only wanted to find his missing Second. Besides, even a fool could've followed the orders he'd given, and Soundwave certainly wasn't stupid. The telepath would have to allow his leader a moment of selfishness and let Megatron get rid of his damn worry before it had the chance to grow any more.

"Thundercracker, Skywarp, you are to stay here as well. I'll go fetch that fool myself."

Soundwave wasn't the only one thinking about objecting to his orders, it seemed, as both of the Seekers took a step forward, Skywarp's vocaliser already activated to release a litany of whines about Starscream being _their _trineleader.

It took one murderous glare directed at all three of them to shut them up – and Megatron was almost sure that it hadn't been the anger in that look that had silenced them, but the distress that had undoubtedly flashed in his optics.

The silver mech took off into the dense air, set on finding his Second in Command and making the nervousness in his core evaporate.

* * *

The impact and feeling of weight descending onto his body told Starscream his shot had missed. It was all over, the yellow Lamborghini twin pushing his heavily injured frame against the unrelenting, rough ground that bit his wings and back mercilessly.

"Ha, bet you won't challenge the twins again after this!" the yellow Lamborghini mocked, and Starscream's remaining flickering optic told the Seeker there was a rifle aimed at his helm.

His Spark squeezed into a cold tight lump, fear running in his battered body as violent trembles. Starscream could already see the dark, stale, _small_ brig waiting for him, the walls tightening around him, the ceiling scratching his wingtips. Hysteria and claustrophobia started creeping into his mind at the mere thought.

He really didn't want to be captured.

"Help! _Megatron!_" Starscream had no idea where the strength to form such a loud scream had come, maybe it burst from the freezing fear in his core or maybe his panic had condensed into one more plea for help, but Starscream knew he was hallucinating when a way too familiar blast of purple, accompanied by a low humming sound, knocked the yellow Lamborghini off him.

Starscream had only called for his leader (for the second time today) because his name was the only one to make it through the chaos of panic and pain in his CPU – not because he'd thought that Megatron could've been in audio range.

* * *

The wave of relief crashed over the silver mech the instant his optics caught the sight of his Second – and Pit damn it, such feelings should've had no place in his mind! He was only rescuing the fool because he preferred not losing any of his warriors, not because … not because of any strange pull dragging him in the damaged Seeker's direction.

Starscream's hysteric scream of his name had barely reached Megatron audios, but the leader had wasted no time pondering if he'd heard right. The silver mech was not a flier, his form certainly lacking in the aerodynamics, but he still had a good reason to believe he'd just made some sort of record while rushing for Starscream a moment ago. He'd landed and paused to take in the situation, then effortlessly shot down the remaining Autobot twin who presently lay on the ground, motionless. Right now Megatron had no intention to secure that the Lamborghini would not rise from the ground again, as Starscream's soft, shocked stutter of his name stole the Decepticon leader's attention.

"M-megatron?"

The Seeker's outer appearance matched the whining, static-filled whisper perfectly, and Megatron could do nothing but to observe in some sort of awe when Starscream, despite his obvious and understandable pains, wobbled up onto his pedes from the rocks that had dented him and ripped holes into his plating. The Seeker stood on his shaky legs, one dirt-smudged wing hanging and looking like it could drop off at any moment, one optic cracked and of an offline shade of grey while the other flickered in different tones of red. A trickle of energon dripped from his mouth, glowing purple against the charcoal grey faceplates. Megatron took a step closer.

The Seeker spat out a disturbing amount of energon before he spoke, "Y-you heard me?"

The weak, relieved tone of the jet's voice seemed to warm a previously frozen spot in Megatron's Spark, some unfamiliar and way too soft feeling trying to leak into the gun-former's CPU. The warlord gritted his teeth. He shouldn't have felt like that at all and even less towards his useless Second – it was Starscream the whining, back-stabbing glitch. Starscream, who should've been able to deal with two Autobots without getting the slag beaten out of him. Starscream, who … desired him?

The silver mech cringed – he shouldn't think about things like that now. Maybe when they returned to the base, but not in the middle of a mission. Not when his processor was tangled even without thinking about that revelation.

Megatron clenched his fists, attempting to replace the confusion with annoyance.

"There's no way I could have _not _heard you. One would've thought that you were in bigger trouble judging by your pathetic cries," Megatron spat out, but the distaste in his words lacked plausibility – to be honest, Starscream's performance had to have been quite impressive, if the Seeker really had first engaged in a battle with the Aerialbots and after that managed to survive this long fighting off the both of the Autobot twins. He just … At the moment Starscream, despite his injuries and because of Megatron's knowledge about the Seeker's feelings towards him, was attractive, tempting enough already. Acknowledging the Seeker's skills in battle would have probably shattered the last shards of Megatron self-control, thus the contemptuous growl, "Did you help to scrap yourself or did those morons of twins really manage beat you in such a state?"

The Decepticon leader had anticipated an indignant screech, endless bragging and exaggerated descriptions of the fight and pain the Seeker had been through. Maybe even a lecture about how a real leader, like the one Starscream would make, should praise his troops' skills in battle instead of mocking them only to feel superior.

Megatron had _not_ been, however, prepared to see the Seeker take a weak step forward, or to witness Starscream take to sprinting towards him; and even after he had seen both of those, the gun-former found himself surprised when Starscream stumbled against him, warm frame pressing against Megatron's, blue hands frantically reaching for his arms and chest, as if making sure the silver mech was real and not a hallucination caused by energon deprivation.

Time decided to stop there, leaving Megatron with a half-offline Second in Command leaning against him, the beaten Seeker so warm, so close – of his own accord. The Decepticon leader had done nothing to lure the jet there, for deriding words usually only brought Starscream closer in a form of a reckless attack. Megatron had no idea what to do now, with the red Seeker … _snuggling_ up to him like that, blue fingers drawing shaky lines onto the dark barrel of his cannon. The Decepticon leader shivered, staring at the tri-coloured jet with widened optics.

The silver mech's Spark lurched in surprise when Starscream suddenly whispered against his chestplates, full lips brushing his armour in a way too pleasant way, "L-lord Megatron... You came for me."

Megatron's whole frame tensed, a part of him yelling at him to push his distracting Second away from him while another craved to crash the Seeker even closer. The gun-former gritted his dental plates, forcing his servos up to the white shoulders. A moment later his arm joints finally understood that he wanted to _push_ and not to _pull_, and Megatron shoved Starscream a little farther from him.

Mission. Autobots. Starscream could, and would have to, wait, even when Megatron knew that the moment the red Seeker got his energy levels up and new energon to replace the amount of the purple liquid he had left to decorate the rocks and Megatron's chest, his Second would lose the honesty that had brought him so close and start another round of running from his leader.

The Decepticon leader forced his mind back to things more important than Starscream, opening a comm.-link. _'Astrotrain, your mission is to transport the Seekers to the base and see they get medical attention. Ask Soundwave to load Thundercracker and Skywarp and come here to retrieve Starscream.'_

_'I'll be there soon.'_

True to his word, the shuttle-former arrived just when Megatron had found out how much energon Starscream could bleed onto him and the ground without going offline. The warm frame had slumped limply against Megatron, the Seeker's dark, punched faceplates going blank as his remaining functional optic lost its red light. Megatron sighed, tearing his optics off the strangely enticing sight of energon trickling from the damaged lip components, and tried to seem as natural as possible when he dragged Starscream into the shuttle's cargo hold.

He met the red Seeker's trinemates' widened optics with a glare, lowering the offline Starscream onto the floor as carelessly as he dared before stomping out and gesturing Astrotrain to take off.

His narrowed optics followed the space shuttle's shrinking form until the deep violet skies swallowed it. Megatron shook his helm, remaining standing there and staring the clouds for another klik, snapping back to reality only when thoughts started to fill the emptiness that Starscream's weird behaviour –caused by pain and energon loss, Megatron knew, but that didn't actually explain Starscream being so nonchalant about practically embracing his leader– had left into his confused mind.

Not allowing himself a moment to think, because thinking wasn't going to help to sort out the mess of his CPU, unlike violence, Megatron turned to face the offlined forms of the Autobot twins, intending to get rid of those pests for good. He barely got his Fusion Cannon raised before an annoyingly familiar voice exclaimed, "Don't you dare, Megatron!"

The Decepticon leader buried his surprise and dodged the shot Prime aimed at his head, swirling to face the Autobot... Autobot_s_, actually, as Ironhide, Ratchet and Prowl soon joined their leader, appearing from behind the tall cliffs surrounding the area. Megatron cursed mentally. Astrotrain's large form had apparently drawn the Autobots' attention to this place, which, seeing that there was no word from Soundwave, meant that the Autobots were here and not there. The gun-former decided that he should probably call the rest of his troops. He did so, and Soundwave's answer was as emotionless as ever, assuring Megatron that they'd be there shortly, which left the Decepticon with a few kliks to spend with the Autobots – and the first thing he had to do was to make sure that they wouldn't fire the weapons they had pointed at him. Megatron might've been in a violent mood, but he still preferred more even odds.

"Four of you against one me?" Megatron mocked, "And I thought you weaklings believed in fair fights!"

"You know nothing about fair, Megatron!" the truck-former shouted, and the silver mech's optics caught the way Prime was looking at the Autobot twins, worry apparent in the red-and-blue Bot's body language. A smirk appeared to grace the gun-former's faceplates.

"I guess that's true," the Decepticon said, shifting his Fusion Cannon from Optimus to the offlined Lamborghinis. "Lower your weapons or your precious twins won't be leaving this place online. Oh, and while you're at it, please explain why your pathetic excuses of warriors have recently been swarming in this place. You seem to overestimate Decepticon hospitality."

It was always so delighting to see how easy the Autobots were to manipulate. All of the four weapons lowered, and after Megatron encouragingly gestured the twins with his cannon, Optimus spoke up, "Three days ago, Teletraan-I reported about abnormal energy readings in this area. Our goal was to find out their source before you do."

"And? Surely even you have managed to find out something in this time?"

Megatron answered the Autobot leader's blue glare with a triumphal smirk, not bothering to remind Prime about the twins still being at his mercy.

"We found the source of the energy waves. An artefact of unknown origin."

"Mm, and you undoubtedly intended to examine it and harness its power to some noble cause. How predictable. I take it you have it with you? Seeing that both your aerial fools and these little runts," Megatron nodded towards the twins, "you intended to use to retrieve it were taken care of by my Decepticons. You wouldn't mind showing this 'artefact' to me, Prime, would you?"

The Decepticon leader let out a barking laugh at the horror that took over the Autobots' faceplates.

"Prime, you can't do it! Who knows what damage it could cause in Decepticon servos!" the Autobot strategist exclaimed.

"Yeah, Optimus! Let's pound in Megajerk's faceplate instead!"

The Decepticon leader smirked at that, in a much too self-satisfied state to mind the nickname Ironhide had used. "I wouldn't recommend that," the silver mech said, hearing the distinct rumble of jet engines and a klik later feeling the Coneheads and Blitzwing land behind him. "I believe you are outnumbered."

Soundwave took his side a moment later, inquiring Megatron about the situation over a private comm.-channel and after the gun-former's explanation, droning, _'Suggestion: get Optimus Prime to show the artefact.'_

_'Fine,' _Megatron answered before turning his attention to the truck-former again. "So Prime, would you show us this mysterious object or do I have to shoot the twins first?"

The Decepticon Commander could see the twitch the Autobot leader's ion blaster gave, but, predictable as ever, his nemesis gave up at the whine of Megatron's charging cannon. The sound had apparently convinced him of the serious nature of Megatron's threats.  
"Fine. Ratchet," the Prime said, the defeat in his voice making Megatron's Spark go wild with smug triumph.

"But Prime! You can't - -!"

"Silence, Prowl. We can't endanger the lives of our comrades. And Megatron hasn't asked us to hand it over to him."

"Yet. But I might if it interests me," Megatron goaded.

The only answer the Autobots gave were defeated glares and the sight of a heavy-looking, round item that Optimus took from Ratchet's hands. The dark orb glowed faint orange in the Autobot leader's servos.  
Megatron could hear his troops starting to blabber and question the uses of "such a weird glowy thing", but he gestured them to keep quiet while opening the private comm with Soundwave again and ordering the telepath to try and figure out the nature and, more importantly, the usefulness of the item.

_'Scanned the item. Origin: unknown. Note: gives off strong ripples of energy. Possible use: an energy source or a weapon.'_

_'Then we want it,' _Megatron answered shortly.

_'Autobots: likely to attempt to keep it out of Decepticon servos. Suggestion: Megatron pretends nonchalance. Soundwave: takes care of the rest.'_

_'Hm.'  
_Megatron cut the link. He turned to examine the orb for a moment, optics narrowed in concentration and a servo raising to stroke his chin until the Autobots started to fidget in growing apprehension. The Decepticon leader's smirk spread like a virus over his faceplates at the sight.

"Well, Megatron?" Optimus questioned.

"You can keep the artefact. It's of no use or interest to me."

The Autobots startled, shocked shouts like _"What? Can't he see how - -!" _and _"Shut up before you reveal it to him!" _filling the air. Megatron grew tense, waiting for Soundwave to make whatever move he intended to (why hadn't he asked the telepath about his plan!), and finally turning to face the still telepath with a surprised snarl on his face.

The sound of a laser shot made the Decepticon leader swirl around again, and everything started to make sense when he registered the way Optimus' hand smoked, and saw Buzzsaw speed towards his creator with the alien object in his claws, the bird apparently still having flown about and scanning the area before Soundwave had given him this new mission.

A mocking grin spread on Megatron's face, only to be wiped off an astrosecond later, when a bright blast connected with the glowing orb, making the artefact explode into a thousand shades of colour. The sound as well as the shock wave followed soon after, deafening the Decepticon leader's audio receptors and almost knocking him off his feet. To his right, he could see Buzzsaw's smoking form hurl through the air, Soundwave rushing to catch his Cassette-bird, before another wave of flashing colours blinded his optics as well.

The chaos calmed down in a klik, Megatron's optics and audio receptors recalibrating to register the state of his warriors – the Coneheads had fallen onto their afts behind him, while Blitzwing stood holding his helm in his servos and Soundwave was seemingly occupied with fussing over the offlined form of Buzzsaw.

The Decepticon leader shook his helm in stupefaction, then turned to face the Autobots who seemed to be in a very similar state of confusion – except for the police car-forming strategist, who still had his rifle raised after the shot that had caused the explosion. Megatron snarled at them, but, seeing the disorganised state of his troops and the fact that the orb was reduced to nothing but the ringing of his audio receptors, shot Optimus one last murderous glare before taking to air.

The Decepticon leader tried to summon up some satisfaction from the fact that the Autobots hadn't succeeded in their mission to secure the now non-existent thing from Decepticons either, but soon found that there was only weariness to be found from his processor.

"Decepticons, retreat! There's nothing that interests us left here!"

Megatron almost bothered with thinking about capturing the Autobot twins, but ignored the idea when the Autobot ambulance hurried to his fellow fools.

He didn't feel like fighting anyone with this kind of a processor ache ripping his thoughts into pieces. Right now the gun-former only wanted back to the Decepticon Headquarters – and he refused to think about a certain Seeker that was waiting there, ready to worsen the throbbing of his processors.

Above the flying Decepticons, the dark clouds finally broke into heavy drops of rainwater.


	12. Options

**AN: **Thank you guys for the massive amount of reviews for the previous chapter, I loved reading them!

Also, the story has three chapters left, and will be turning more mature (as in SEX YAY!) towards the end. Just warning.

**

* * *

12. Options

* * *

**

Reality came back rapidly, flooding his CPU with pain that grew from minor discomfort to stinging full-body ache in matter of nanokliks. Starscream groaned, optics flickering online only to offline again under an assault of blinding white, their sensitivity to light a hint that they had only been recently repaired.

The ceiling he had glimpsed, though, was just as familiar as it had been the last time.

"...The med bay?" the Seeker rasped, his vocaliser feeling just as unused as his optics, his voice rougher than usually and whining in a pathetic way.

"Yep. Enjoyed your beauty sleep?"

Starscream blinked, willing his optics to remain online and readjusting them to the bright bluish lighting of the medical bay. His slight surprise formed a deep frown onto his faceplates – he hadn't expected to hear that voice in here. The red Seeker turned to look at his purple trinemate pacing around the room, overtly impatient, then saw the third member of the trine sitting on another berth, the occasional twitches of his wings hinting the same impatience that the Air Commander could spot in Skywarp's behaviour. Starscream cleared his vocaliser quickly, his voice a little less rough when he asked, "What's going on?"

The teleporter stopped his pacing to poke at a piece of medical equipment left on a table beside Starscream's berth. "We're waiting for the Constructicons to come back and let us go. Said they needed to refuel and left us to wait for them to come back and make some final check-ups. Damn slaggers are taking an eternity!"

Starscream ignored a flash of pain that warned him about sitting up being out of question in his current condition – the red Seeker was only starting to notice the extent of unrepaired damage in and on his body. The frown on his face deepened, "So... Uh, why are you... we... here at all?"

"You remember the mission we were sent on? The Aerialbots and the Pit-damned twins?" Thundercracker joined the conversation, "It didn't go … exactly as we expected. You were separated from us and - -"

"Got slagged by the Autobot twins!" Skywarp exclaimed, tone turning alarmingly quickly from cheerful to an outright triumphant, smug drawl when he continued, "You'd be scrap now if not for your … _personal hero_."

Skywarp's tone alone would have been unsettling enough, but the purple jet's smug wink roused a gnawing feeling of nervousness in Starscream's mind, as if there was something he should have remembered by now … something he probably didn't want to remember.

"What are you talking about!" the tri-coloured jet demanded, voice still a touch hoarse but now with an edge of annoyance to it.

"So you don't remember?" Skywarp taunted, his grin very close to splitting his face.

Starscream snarled, optics tightening as his patience wore thinner and thinner by nanoklik. The memory he still couldn't quite access kept teasing him, slipping out of his grasp just when he was about to catch it and find out the reason behind Skywarp's unpleasant smugness.

"I... I order you to tell me what the frag you're talking about!" Starscream finally snapped, hands already raising to point his weapons at the annoying purple Seeker – though he remembered a moment too late that he was in the med bay and therefore stripped of his Null-rays. The red jet bared his dental plates and thought about jumping onto his feet and beating that smugness out of the teleporter instead, when Thundercracker interfered. "Calm down, Starscream. He's talking about Megatron, um..." the blue Seeker examined the Air Commander with a quick look, as if to calculate the possibility of aggravating the red Seeker further with his next words, "... well, coming to your rescue."

"To my..?" Starscream started, the incredulous squawk quickly fading as foggy memories streamed into his mind. He could remember the bubbling relief that had muted the faint warnings of his remaining rationality, faintly recalled pressing against his leader's firm frame, he … had he really let himself relax in such close proximity to Megatron? A shudder shook his whole frame, dislodging an undignified whimper from his vocaliser. The red Seeker was not sure if he should have felt angry or fearful or annoyed, the memory files confusing him more than anything else.

"W-what happened exactly?" Starscream finally cheeped, still trying to figure out if there was any way to solve the mess that the feelings crowding in his CPU had tangled into.

Thundercracker regarded the red jet with slightly concerned optics. "Well, he and Soundwave arrived there just as we'd finished with the Aerialbots, and - -"

"Megatron rushed to your rescue the astrosecond we mentioned you might be in trouble! So sweet of him!" Skywarp chirped, seeming to ignore the glowing glare the blue Seeker shot at him. The teleporter sniggered, the grin on his pale faceplates broadening.

Starscream let out an uncontrollable shriek of shocked anger, bolting onto his pedes for the astrosecond or so it took him to fall sitting on his berth again.

"You lie!" It came out as another furious shriek, the chaos of emotions gradually turning into anger for a reason Starscream did not know. The red jet could feel the other Seekers' optics on him, his own gaze fiercely boring through the floor.

Skywarp sounded a bit less teasing now, the tips of his purple pedes stepping into Starscream's field of vision, "Hey, uh, everything all right, 'Screamy?"

Starscream refused to lift his gaze, the patterns and scratches on the floor under the sharp scrutiny of his faintly flickering optics. His vocaliser activated on its own, his words spat out, but not as certainly as he would have preferred, "Megatron did, hmph, help me. But he only did it to... He must have some reason to do that. He would not do it otherwise, he hates me! It's one of his awful schemes to humiliate me again. It must be!"

The blue Seeker stood up from his berth, walking over to Skywarp and Starscream. The red jet peered at him mutely. Thundercracker shot a quick glance around the room and then one at the ceiling, as if to check that there was no-one to hear and nothing to record what he was going to say. "To tell the truth, Megatron seemed a bit concerned. About you."

"He was not!" Starscream snapped, optics finally fully raised to shoot a blazing glare at his trinemates.

"Starscream..." Thundercracker tried, taking a step closer to the red Seeker.

"I'm not going to discuss this any further. I know Megatron, and he would not be _'concerned',_" the Air Commander spat the word as if it tasted bad, "about me! Now shut up!"

Starscream slumped back onto his berth, glaring at the ceiling and defiantly ignoring his trinemates' tries to approach him. The red Seeker knew that they were lying – either lying or out of their processors and seeing things. He didn't really care which one; he knew altogether that Megatron had not been concerned about him or saved him out of kindness.

The Constructicons came back a klik or two later, sending the two other Seekers away, and Starscream would have felt grateful if it had not meant a painful amount of attention paid to the numerous wounds and crushed parts on his badly battered frame.

Under the tinkering attention of the Constructicons' not-so-gentle servos, biting his lips as cables were reconnected and dents pounded out, Starscream couldn't help but acknowledge it: whatever his reasons had been, Megatron really had saved him earlier today.

* * *

The casual racket in the Control Room gradually quieted down as the evening crept on. It was almost eerily quiet, Soundwave's tireless typing and occasional sound signals from his computer the only things that kept the room from slipping into complete silence. On any normal evening an occasional shriek or a scoffing comment would have pierced the soundless atmosphere and shook Megatron fully awake from his state of silent yet very intense irritation, but not today. A lack of one Seeker's presence, so it seemed, could make a ton of difference, even if it meant that Megatron was left to seethe in his frustration.

Megatron had not felt particularly delighted yesterday when Hook had suggested he gave Starscream a few days off. The Seeker may have been badly damaged after the mission two days ago, and now that one of those Starscream-less days had passed, Megatron may have had to admit that he had got a fair amount of work done in record time, but _still_. The Decepticon leader had already been annoyed with Starscream due to the events during the failure of a mission (rather, due to the _lack_ of events that he knew would follow those confusing but strangely pleasing events during the mission), and the fact that Starscream had now been excused of his work as the Second in Command infuriated Megatron further. Not that Starscream's undone work was his concern, but continuously bombarding Soundwave with both the telepath's own and Starscream's tasks and assignments was.

Then, of course, there was the fact that nowadays whatever the Seeker did or didn't do seemed to annoy the gun-former. The whole existence of the tri-coloured glitch annoyed him, reminded him of a series of failures. Starscream should have been his by now, after all the trouble Megatron had gone to. He had given the Seeker time, he had made his intentions quite clear and he had even had Soundwave confirm that Starscream supposedly wanted his attentions, but still the fool of a Seeker danced there just out of his reach, teasing. Not that it meant that Megatron was running out of ideas, because he... well, he was.

Megatron snapped back to reality with an annoyed growl, only realising that it had actually been a good thing to do when the Communications Officer still buried in work curiously peered at him, keeping up with his relentless typing even as his optics left the monitor.

Of course. Megatron had no idea of what to do with his Seeker, but Soundwave just might have.

"Soundwave?"

The Decepticon leader watched, partly amused, how the telepath cringed at his question. The tape deck was obviously dreading a new task to complete when he had been assigned with the last one only a breem or two ago. No sign of Soundwave's reasonable jadedness, however, showed by the time he'd turned his chair around to slowly nod at Megatron.

The silver mech scrutinised the tape deck for a while, pondering if he should really ask Soundwave's advice, then sighed. He could sense the telepath cautiously prodding at his thoughts, the tape deck's silence and a bright glint of his visor confirming this. Megatron had, of course, guarded all the thoughts he did not want to reveal, and maybe letting the telepath read some of his ponderings concerning a certain Seeker could prove easier than to try to put those thoughts into words. He observed the blue mech's expressions – the lack of them – until the other finally nodded again. Megatron answered by a new weary sigh, then moved his gaze to a far wall.

"What should I do with Starscream?" he asked, and of course he should have worded it differently, even something like _"Can you suggest how to deal with this problem" _would have sounded much better and more like him. Not only that, but he should have said it with some more force too to hide how pathetic he felt asking for help with something like this, but... Soundwave was a telepath. He knew anyway.

"Suggestion: discuss the subject with Starscream."

"What a brilliant suggestion!" A sudden surge of anger coursed through Megatron's body, his dental plates gritting and mouth twisting into a snarl. Even considering his already frustrated state, the Decepticon leader did not know why exactly the telepath's words annoyed him so, but he dearly hoped it wasn't because he only now noticed that he really had yet to _talk_ with Starscream. Although he naturally had his very valuable reasons not to. "Have you ever tried to discuss anything with Starscream? It's useless! He questions everything, defies every single order and … it's impossible!"

"Fact: Megatron has not tried that approach yet," the blue mech stated, and the Decepticon leader seriously wished that Soundwave understood just how close to shooting the telepath he had become. Megatron's patience had never been endless, and it certainly wasn't right now. Comments like that sounded a bit too irritating for his current liking.

"Suggestion: Megatron tries to talk with Starscream," Soundwave repeated to break the stretch of tense silence that took over after the minute twitches of the silver mech's cannon arm had died down.

"Reasoning: Starscream's recent behaviour: fearful. Megatron's actions: trouble the Seeker. More gradual approach: presumed to be more efficient." The tape deck paused, his red gaze expectantly locked onto Megatron's faceplates. "Repeat: Suggested course of action: conversation with Starscream."

The sound leaving Megatron's vocaliser hung in the air like an almost impossible and very frustrated mix of a growl and a sigh. Then, when Soundwave refused to suggest some other approach, the gun-former gave up and grumbled, though in a very disgruntled tone, "Fine, I consider trying that. Although I seriously doubt it will work."

On the other hand, nothing Megatron had tried thus far had worked either, and seeing how rarely Soundwave gave bad advice, overlooking the telepath's suggested strategy could be unwise. Even so, Megatron couldn't say he was looking forward to 'discussing' with his Second.

* * *

Although a mech very accustomed to lying, even to himself, Starscream would not even try to claim that his short recess from his duties had been enjoyable. He had lately been avoiding Megatron more often than not, and even as the idea of meeting his leader became more and more troubling every time the blurry memory file about him leaping – stumbling, to be precise – into the silver mech's arms surfaced, the red Seeker still didn't feel like spending any more days coaxing his trinemates to act as his bodyguards. Neither did he feel like hiding behind their backs every time he caught a glimpse of Megatron's silver armour, or locking up in his quarters in order to avoid the tyrant.

Which was why the red Seeker, completely repaired and recovered after a few days' 'vacation', marched into the Control Room with only a joor's hesitation. After all, dented because of his own ridiculous actions after the mission four solar cycles ago, Starscream's pride had spent no small amount of time finding a way to explain his behaviour to himself as well as to Megatron: it had been all the fault of his energon loss at the time. He hadn't been processing clearly – had he been, he would never have accepted Megatron's 'help' back then, any less approached the silver mech. His actions thus explained, Starscream had absolutely no reason to fear seeing Megatron again.

Currently the Seeker stood in front of the open door to the Control Room, already regretting he had decided against whining for his trinemates' support and protection. Peeking from the doorway, the red Seeker could see Megatron lazily lounging in his throne and couldn't keep a surge of anxiety under control. He may have had no reason to fear, but he couldn't deny that he did feel anxious.

The sound of approaching footsteps was what finally forced the tri-coloured jet to enter the room, and he slipped in as if he hadn't nervously lingered in the doorway for a breem or so. Starscream glanced around the busy room quickly, remembering to straighten his back struts and erase his nervousness just in time to stop the curious creasing of Astrotrain's optic ridge midway.

The triple-changer, however, had not been the only one to notice Starscream's arrival, and the red Seeker's careful attempts at keeping his anxiety at bay were proven useless by one startled jump he gave as he took notion of Megatron sluggishly turning to inspect him with sharp optics.

"Starscream. It's good to see you every now and again," Megatron rumbled, and the dry half-smirk on the silver lip components told very clearly that the Decepticon leader had grown tired of the red Seeker avoiding him.

Starscream took a few cautious steps closer to the throne and his leader, then answered simply, "Hook told me you wanted to see me after their final check-ups. I take it you have some assignment for me now that I'm fully recovered?"

The silver mech smirked, steadily eyeing the Seeker until Starscream had to divert his own gaze to guard the emotions that Megatron's investigative stare could have extracted from his optics. The jet vented a soft, nervous sigh.

"True. But before that, I think we might have something fairly important to discuss with each other," the warlord vocalised in a weird tone, faint tenseness audible in his raspy voice.

Starscream found himself confused both because of the Decepticon leader's odd tone and his words. The jet carefully peered at his leader from under his frowned optic ridges, his voice holding a bemused tone when he inquired, "Ah... I'm not quite certain to what you are referring, Megatron..?"

The tyrant stood up from his seat, and the Seeker couldn't help but jump a little backwards by pure reflex, his joints tensing automatically.

"I think you will find out soon enough. Follow me," Megatron stated, walking up to Starscream and sweeping his optics over the Seeker's body in a way that made the Air Commander want to cover his frame with something. The warlord's optics glinted in a nearly predatory way, and looking up to them made Starscream recall just why avoiding Megatron could have been a better option than confronting him after all. A shudder ran down the Seeker's back struts, unrestrained.

"F-follow you? I thought we were only going to discuss this 'important matter' of yours?" Starscream finally cheeped, warily eyeing the tyrant who had stopped in front of him.

Megatron smirked. "Yes, that is what we are going to do. But I prefer we do it in private."

Starscream felt his frame froze as the words fully registered. Cold, slimy grime of fear slithered down his back struts, leaving him to stare blankly at the warlord's faceplates hovering so close to his own. The malignant smirk and the crimson light from the narrowed optics fixed the helpless Seeker in his place in the middle of the crowded Control Room. A fearful whimper escaped Starscream's vocaliser, and the sound seemed to snap Megatron into focus, the tyrant finally leaning back, allowing the jet some personal space. Then Megatron turned around and walked to the door, casting the frozen Seeker an expectant glance. Starscream obeyed silently, shocked, leaving the Control Room quietly after what the rest of the mechs in the room might have seen as a mere ordinary power play and a simple demonstration of Megatron's authority.

Starscream had opted for following in obedient silence at first, but by the time Megatron had led him past the door to the Command Centre and even ignored Starscream's last hope, the corridor ending to the mess hall, Starscream couldn't swallow the burning question anymore. "W-where are we headed?"

The Seeker didn't like the carefree way Megatron turned his helm to peek at him over a silver shoulder, and even less he liked the way the tyrant chuckled after a nanoklik. "To my quarters."

Starscream had no hope of toning down the burst of panic that erupted from his vocaliser as an audio-shattering shriek, "Y-your quarters?"

The Decepticon leader turned to glance at the Seeker again, and even with the silver shoulder blocking most of the warlord's face, Starscream could see the smirk, the smugness, with which Megatron regarded him. "Of course. Nothing will interrupt our _discussion_ there."

A feeling that he was following Megatron straight into a trap increased in Starscream's CPU. The coldness of fear came back to trickle down his body and the back of his helm, his self-preservation programmes nervously chanting that he should run while he still could. However, it seemed as if his self-preservation programmes had forgotten that Megatron had no problem shooting him in the back the astrosecond he turned tail. The Seeker bit his lip in uncertain anxiety, his frame slumping when Megatron finally shifted his gaze forward again, ready to continue on the way to their destination – Megatron's quarters.

It was not a place Starscream often visited, and it _definitely _was _not_ a place Starscream had pleasant memories of. There were, almost without exception, two reasons the Seeker had ever had to make his way to his leader's personal room, and neither of those reasons ever resulted in anything he looked forward to. It was always either punishment or _'punishment'_. The last time he had visited Megatron's quarters it had been the former, and almost resulted in Starscream's permanent deactivation, but somehow the other option, the one including very (un)wanted mockery of intimacy, was the one he dreaded more.

Starscream truly wished Megatron really led him towards his quarters only intending to 'discuss' with him and nothing else.

* * *

Megatron could feel the Seeker's fear, could hear it in every single shaky intake the jet took behind him as they walked to the lift. The space that normally could fit five Decepticons seemed to become too cramped for Starscream's liking as the lift doors closed, and Megatron couldn't help but chuckle inwardly at the way the Seeker pressed into the far corner, avoiding the silver mech's every try to make optic contact with him.

His Second sure was amusing, but at the same time so annoying. Megatron did enjoy seeing the effects his mere silent presence had on the nervous Seeker, yet he also found himself missing Starscream's wit and temper, even his coy acts of insubordination – the jet had been so meek for weeks now, cowering under Megatron's every gaze and only shrieking in fear or panic. Strange as it was, the silver mech found himself longing for the comeback of the fiery little glitch he knew Starscream to also be. Winning the jet and this infuriating game that had gone on for way too long would not feel as pleasing if the only thing he had to beat was a fearful although very unwilling weakling of a Seeker. Megatron did, after all, enjoy fighting, even if his patience tried to object by reminding him just how much time he had spent on playing this one frustrating game with the tri-coloured fool.

The silver mech snapped out of his thoughts when the lift stopped, just in time to see the panicked flinch Starscream's frame gave. Megatron took in the Seeker's widened and wildly shifting optics and the minor trembling of his wings, torn between enjoying and being annoyed at the sight.

"Follow," was all Megatron said, his tone neutral, but it seemed as if the words reached Starscream's audios sounding like a threat of the worst sort, judging by the panic that grew more and more visible on the dark faceplates by the astrosecond.

The silver mech made his way to the door waiting in the end of the corridor, glancing once more over his shoulder – Starscream looked away immediately – before punching in the access code.

The door opened, revealing the familiar room, brightly lit up to keep away the darkness the outside sea offered even during the brightest days. Megatron strode to his desk, sitting down in his chair with a low sigh. He relaxed as far as he dared, ignoring his Second for a moment longer. Once he turned to observe Starscream again, his faceplates had schooled into a serious expression. The Seeker had made no progress at all, the red optics peeking nervously at the warlord from across the room. Megatron cleared his vocaliser expectantly, gesturing Starscream to detach his back from the closed door and come closer. The jet obeyed, silently and with his helm lowered, his steps careful as if the smooth floor under his pedes had been littered with traps or explosives. The Decepticon leader almost roared at his Second to hurry the frag up, the unsure, awkward clacks of the Seeker's thruster-heels strangely infuriating.

Finally the jet stopped, a carefully calculated distance from Megatron's desk. The Decepticon leader tapped the tips of his digits together, frowning at the way Starscream flinched at such a quiet sound.

"I believe you have a good idea what we are going to talk about, Starscream", Megatron said calmly, staring at his Second. The Seeker shrank down a little under his sharp examination.

"Um, I, uh, think it is about... uh."

A rough, strained growl from Megatron made the jet cease his stammering. "I know you're not stupid, Starscream. You must realise that your recent performance – rather, the lack of it – as my Second in Command has been unacceptable. Though I have to assure you, the work you have avoided by shirking your duties has not been left undone."

Starscream lowered his gaze, letting out a small sigh almost as if he actually had been ashamed of his recent disregard of his duties. Megatron chuckled, though only half-amused.

"You should be grateful for the dutifulness and capability Soundwave has shown while taking care of your duties as well as his own." The silver mech paused for a short moment, then shook his helm in a theatrical way. "Regrettably, that puts your usefulness in this army under question."

"W-what?"

Megatron smirked broadly at the way Starscream barely stopped his forward step midway, the Seeker's optics widened still but not in fear this time. The expression on the dark face was pure shock, with hints of upset visible in the manner the red-striped wings perked up.

"You heard right, Starscream. You must have noticed you have not been the exemplary Second in Command as of late. I warn you, Seeker, my patience for you is wearing thin."

The Seeker frowned, his faceplates almost drawing into that delicious, defiant sneer Megatron so missed. The glimpse of Starscream's fiery temper soon dissolved, though, leaving behind meek humility. "I apologise, Lord Megatron. I … I will make up for my absence."

The Decepticon leader was just about to answer when an idea hit him like a shot of laser; indirectly and, most likely, unintentionally presented in the Seeker's words. The warlord couldn't keep his lips from quirking into a broader smirk. This 'idea' was most likely _not_ what Soundwave had meant by 'conversation', but Megatron couldn't help himself, a hot pulse of his Spark making him see all the beauty and attractiveness laid out before his optics in the form of his Second in Command. The sight convinced Megatron to try his own considerably more physical approach just one more time. He chuckled lightly, his Spark thrilling at the sight of Starscream tensing up at the sound.

"Hmm. Well then, how exactly do you intend to..." Megatron stood up from his seat, making the Seeker took a wary step backwards. "... regain my favour?"

The slight implication in his tone resulted in a violent twist of the red-and-white frame, and Megatron wasted no time in circling his desk, grabbing a bright blue arm just when Starscream swirled around to bolt for the closed door.

"What are you doing!"

The shriek made Megatron audios ring, but he ignored the sting, his optics devouring the panic Starscream's expressive faceplates so openly revealed. Megatron chuckled, low in his throat, then pulled the Seeker against his chest by the blue arm, crushing the Seeker's hopes of breaking free from his grasp. A slight pull of his hand made Starscream's frame slump against Megatron's own forcefully, but the Decepticon leader kept his footing, a pleased growl leaving his vocaliser when he noticed how comfortably the contours of Starscream's back fitted against his chest. Starscream let out a shocked gasp, and Megatron quickly let the jet's arm go, circling his own silver one around the white waist to secure the pleasantly warm Seeker against his chest before his Second could recover from the surprise behind the breathy sound and try to wriggle from his hold.

"So, Starscream," Megatron whispered, his voice far huskier than he had expected. The Seeker went rigid against his chest with a new gasp, then attempted to once more squirm away from the grip around his waist. Megatron smirked, curling his free arm around the wriggling frame as well, relishing the fearful sound Starscream made. Lowering his helm, Megatron brushed his lips against the dark helm and he spoke again in a low, suggestive purr, "I bet you can come up with a way to solve our little _problem_."

* * *

Starscream couldn't remember the last time his leader's presence had felt so overwhelming, the strong arms around his waist and chest merging him with the broad frame behind his back, the warm brushes of rough lips and husky words against the top of his helm intoxicating. He almost relaxed, almost offlined his optics, knowing that he belonged there. That was what every single nanometre of Starscream's quickly-heating plating and the thrills of his Spark persisted; this was where he should be, in Megatron's arms, under his leader's possession.

His processor objected, though. Loudly.

Megatron had to be toying with him, had to have some ulterior motive behind the actions Starscream's foolish core would have gladly seen as signs of mutual lust and want. Megatron didn't want him, he knew it. After all, how many times had the gun-former connected to his port, touched his frame without ever showing any hint of desire; how many times had Starscream heard that same indifferent growl the tyrant let out when he overloaded after stealing Starscream's energy?

Megatron did not want him. Did not want _this_, the feeling of warmth and completion that his possessive hold around the Seeker's waist aroused in Starscream. A painful, desperate lurch of his Spark, realisation_,_ was all the tri-coloured jet needed to find the will to escape from the far too pleasant grasp.

"Let me go!" he screeched, struggling against the hold that kept him pressed against the warm, silver chestplate. Hands raising to scratch his leader's arms, Starscream wriggled fiercely, biting his lip to dampen down the arousal that darted through his body every time his frame came in rough contact with Megatron's. He couldn't deny that he wanted to stop fighting, wanted to give up and let Megatron do whatever he intended to – oh Pit, Starscream had never wanted anything as much as he now wanted to surrender –, but he knew he couldn't. Megatron was only toying with him.

A black servo trailed a gently down his side, the touch treacherous in its fondness, and Starscream couldn't take the conflict between of pulses of arousal and warnings of his rationality anymore. "Stop it! You can't do this!"

The hands didn't withdraw, both of them now moving to draw long lines along the curves of Starscream's body, stopping here and there to pay extra attention to distinct parts. The Seeker's rationality, though, did take the back seat as the delightful attentions of his leader's huge servos continued. Starscream moaned and arched back, finding his back to match Megatron's front nicely; the warlord's strong body warm against the Seeker's wings, the jet's aft rubbing against his leader's groin when a black leg curled around Starscream's own white one, slowly drawing it apart from the other. The jet couldn't restrain a pathetic moan, the attention Megatron paid to his body drowning all of his intentions to escape from the pleasure he shouldn't have given into in the first place.

Megatron's voice broke the heated silence between them, the gentle brushes of silver lips on Starscream's helm softening the harsh words.

"You keep telling me what I can and cannot do, but you forget that you have no power over me."

Any fear words like that might have normally installed in Starscream's mind was buried under the excited thrills deriving from the way the words curled to tease his Spark, the movements of Megatron's lip components on his helm impossibly arousing. The Seeker whimpered needily when Megatron continued.

"I'm your leader. I am the one who sets the rules. You listen to my orders, Starscream, you obey them."

Starscream muted his vocaliser just in time to keep a wanton _"Yes!"_ from escaping, but couldn't stop himself from grinding his aft against the powerful frame behind him. He pressed into the touch Megatron placed on his cockpit glass, his optics almost offlining. He should have resisted, he knew, he remembered, but there was nothing he could do to rip himself away from the far too pleasurable contact. He wanted this so much, his whole frame burning for more contact, more pleasure, more attention.

"I can feel how much you want this, Starscream. I know you desire me. Admit it."

"I d - -!" Starscream's Spark skipped a pulse or two, lips pressing into a tight line to keep the rest of the word from escaping, his optics flaring back online.

His leader's words had been just as husky as before, formed against the top of Starscream's helm in the same exciting, nearly gentle manner, but this time their meaning, as well as the answer Starscream had almost been fooled to give, was simply too … impossible. Dangerous.

A cold wave of shock shoved away all pleasure and want and arousal, a terrified lurch of Starscream's Spark giving him the strength to tear himself out of Megatron's grip. He sprinted to get away from the larger mech, fear pulsing through his whole being, then turned to stare at his leader when he reached the locked door, backing up against the cool wall. "I don't f-feel anything like - -"

"Stop lying, Seeker! I know what you want from me, I can see it and I have had reliable sources confirm it. I know you want me, Starscream," Megatron growled, no sign of the huskiness left in the enraged shout. The tyrant took a threatening step closer, making Starscream flinch, but did not approach further. The Seeker met Megatron's furious glare with reserved optics.

"I hate you," Starscream stated in a flat, emotionless tone of a badly hidden lie, his Spark choked by the intense fear Megatron's obvious rage evoked.

"I have already told you that my patience wears thin, Starscream. I will get what I want, all you can do is to postpone the inevitable. You should consider giving up now." The gun-former's tone had turned cold, intimidating.

"Never!"

"Very well."

The sudden whirr of the opening door shocked Starscream almost as much as Megatron's words had, his optics dubiously shifting from Megatron to the open door and the empty corridor on the other side of it – safety. "What are you..?"

"Letting you choose whether you want to do this the easy or the hard way," Megatron growled, frustration evident in his growling voice.

Starscream had no idea which option he chose by sprinting into the corridor.


	13. Hide And Seek

**AN:** Thank you once again for being wonderful enough to review this fic! I really love your feedback.

Ok, this is a chapter I like myself, though I am a touch hesitant to admit that since I wrote over 6,500 words of this extra-long chapter during last night. Like, from 10 pm to 6 am... Which means that it's fairly fresh and I even changed some major things on a whim. Yay.

Anyway, getting closer to Plug&Play sex in this chapter, just warning.

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* * *

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**13. Hide and Seek**

* * *

With a final clack of his thruster-heels Starscream stopped, wings trembling, in front of the door. He could hear the echoes of his steps, the frantic rhythm of clacks and clicks ringing in the corridor. The trail of echoes no doubt led all the way back to Megatron's quarters where his leader still stood – so the Seeker desperately hoped – and fumed in frustration that Starscream had so easily spotted in his rough voice.

_"Letting you choose whether you want to do this the easy or the hard way." _

Truth be told, Starscream had not wanted to choose, if that was what he had done by fleeing. There just seemed to be no stopping the daunting flow of events; things were no more getting out of hand, they had done that long ago. Every previous attempt at regaining balance or clarity of processor, even less an actual solution to the bizarre and most dangerous situation had only led him to this point. This point being the one where every single alternative he had seemed to result in either pain or humiliation. Maybe even in something worse, but the Seeker certainly didn't want to think about that.

Some other solar cycle the door silently standing in front of him might have mocked him for coming here in hopes of help and comfort, poked fun at his uncharacteristic lack of self-assurance, but not now. This time there was nothing pathetic about searching for help, because he needed it, really needed something to soothe the fears and desires he was unable to control on his own.

Starscream's knuckles came in contact with the door, the knocking sound light but not too shy. A backwards step later he was staring the door, his fans still working on cooling down his core temperature which his latest contact with Megatron had drastically heightened. He cursed the thought, cursed the memories that wasted no time in violently breaking through the barriers he had carefully built bare kliks ago while on his way here.

Megatron's manipulative touches had felt so good; frag it, _good_ didn't even begin to describe the sensations that had jolted his body, or the burning heat of arousal that had melted away his common sense. Starscream tried to growl at the too recent memories and the prickles of excitement they provoked, but the sound came out as a hopeless groan. The annoyance, or need, or whatever it was that made his frame start to heat up once more made his lips curl, his dental plates bared and optics narrowed in a sneer. A particularly hateful one, so it seemed, since the door was opened only to almost be pulled back shut when the blue Seeker's optics turned to Starscream's face and flew wide in alarm.

"Starscream?" Thundercracker asked from the doorway, his tone tentative. Starscream let his expression turn blank, his heavy sigh wiping away the very last traces of his fierce snarl.

"You two have to help me," Starscream stated in a flat, serious tone. The further widening of Thundercracker's optics did not surprise the red Seeker any more than the amazed parting of his trinemate's pale lips.

"You mean… You really want our help?"

"Of course not. I only came here to tell you how much I enjoy your company! Fool!" Starscream snapped, the shriek sounding ridiculously over-the-top even to himself. Thundercracker had jumped back at the furious scream, now cautiously squinting at him while shielding himself behind the half-open door. Starscream cycled a quick intake of air, voice a bit more collected as he spoke again, "Would I stand here asking for your help if I didn't want it?"

"Uh, sorry. Come in," Thundercracker mumbled. The door slid fully open with a faint 'whoosh', revealing the fairly sizeable quarters of Starscream's trine. The quarters looked the same as the Conehead trine's, except for the lack of one berth: there would have been plenty of room for Starscream in here, too, but being not only the Second in Command but also a very private mech, the red Seeker preferred his own quarters.

Starscream stepped in, in passing taking note of the wary way Thundercracker still eyed him, as if he could have exploded at any moment. The tri-coloured jet sighed, heavily sinking down to sit down on the edge Skywarp's berth. Wings drooped as miserable confusion started to give way to distress and helplessness, Starscream looked up at his host. Thundercracker seemed to relax at this, the slightly concerned frown Starscream had witnessed so often in the recent days taking over his white faceplates.

"So, you wanted help?"

"You two have to… Wait, where's Skywarp?"The red Seeker glanced around the quarters, as if the teleporter might have been hiding in some corner of the room, then turned his curious optics to the blue Seeker.

"He's getting energon from the mess hall."

"Oh. I see," Starscream answered somewhat stupidly, not really knowing why he wanted to wait for the presence of the purple fool and his stupid jokes before telling what this visit was about. Skywarp would have nothing useful to add to the discussion, that much was sure, yet some weird twist of logic made the red Seeker want the trine to be complete. A frown crept on his face, his lips pouting slightly.

"Hm, guess I'll ask 'Warp to bring one more cube."

Starscream lifted his optics to the blue Seeker once more, his frown deepening. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Thundercracker smiled, the curve of his lips almost friendly, the glint of his optics sincerely so. "You need it to lift up those wings of yours. You look so pathetic when they droop like that."

Starscream glared at the other, but his irritation lacked sincerity. "Shut it."

Starscream let a faint smirk of his own answer the one that twisted Thundercracker's lips, then waited quietly as the blue Seeker commed Skywarp and asked him to bring more energon. The jet quirked an optic ridge at the way Thundercracker shook his helm in an amused way.  
"Nah, just 'Warp complaining about just having left the mess hall," Thundercracker said.

"Moron. He can teleport." Starscream snorted, contemplating whether he should have been alarmed by the not hearing the slightest hint of real disapproval in his own voice.

The red and the blue Seeker waited, changing a few more unimportant, casual words before falling in pleasant, comfortable silence. Starscream let himself relax, just a little bit, some part of his processor still lecturing him about never lowering his guard, especially at times like this, after just angering Megatron. The red jet vented a heave of air, just about to activate his vocaliser, when a muffled litany of obscenities from the other side of the door abruptly cut into the quietness. The two Seekers in the room simultaneously snapped to look at the door in bewilderment, then exchanged quick, curious glances before Thundercracker gave the door a command to open.

"Oh. Thanks!" came a surprised but cheerful exclamation from the hallway as the door slid open to reveal the sight of Skywarp balancing numerous energon cubes in his hands while trying to reach for the panel by the doorframe.

Starscream turned to look at Thundercracker once more, his optic ridge creasing in question and unbelieving. The blue Seeker answered with a frown and a shrug, then shifted his optics to the madly grinning Skywarp who had entered the room and placed the stack of energon cubes on the table near the door.

"Heh, I was starting to worry about getting those cubes here in one piece. You saved them, TC!"

Starscream rolled his optics, a disbelieving expression taking over his faceplates. "You could have tried sub-spacing them, Skywarp. That's what any sensible mech would have done. And what about teleporting?"

"Never thought of that, 'Screamer."

Again, the stupid grin, accompanied with words that made Starscream wonder just how low the teleporter's processing capability was, and if Skywarp was actually proud to be an idiot. Even so, the red Seeker felt a touch amused. He took the energon cube Skywarp offered him, his vocaliser activated to mumble a thank you, which got turned into a squawk of disapproval halfway when the purple Seeker flopped down on the berth, his aim (or power of observation) poor as usual – Starscream had to jump aside in order to prevent the teleporter from ending up sitting in his lap. The red jet snarled. "Are your optics dysfunctional or what, moron? I'm not a cushion!"

Skywarp answered with a beaming, in-no-way-apologetic grin, then slouched back to take a long gulp from his own cube. "Relax, 'Screamer. Why don't you tell us why you're here instead of calling me names."

"Yeah, Starscream, I have to admit I'm a little curious," Thundercracker said, sharply observing the red Seeker from his own berth on the opposite side of the room.

Starscream took a deep intake. "I need your help. It's about - -"

"Megatron. Guess what, 'Screamer, that's kinda obvious," Skywarp interrupted, his grin changed to a bored expression.

"I asked for help, not stupid comments!" the red Seeker snapped, dentas gritted, before slipping into full helplessness and desperation again, "Anyway, I… You have to help me!"

Starscream mentally cursed the helplessness in his voice, even louder when Thundercracker sat up and walked to Skywarp's berth after a moment's hesitation, sitting on the other side of the red Seeker. He felt like such a sparkling, his trinemates' compassionate presence mocking everything he was.

"Why don't you first tell us what happened, Starscream. We can't help you when we have no idea what's going on," Thundercracker said calmly, his words infuriating Starscream even as their warm caring tone made him remember why he put up with his annoying trinemates at all. They cared. They were ready to help.

"Megatron… I was in the Control Room, he ordered me to follow him to his quarters, told me he wanted to discuss something," the red jet mumbled eventually, his uneasiness deriving more from recalling the events than telling about them to his trinemates. "Discuss! Ha, the moment we got there, he started groping me _again_! I swear he's planning something, he wouldn't do … _that_ otherwise!"

"You enjoyed it, didn't you?" Skywarp taunted.

"That's not the point!" Starscream snapped, realising an astrosecond too late that he had should have denied it outright, instead.

"Well, what _is_ the point then? He touched you? There's not much we can do about that, you know," Thundercracker stated dryly.

"No, the problem is… He said he knows that I want it! That he had 'reliable sources'… He…" Starscream trailed off, his wings shuddering in both fear and excitement as Megatron's husky words replayed in his CPU. He took a quick sip from his neglected energon cube.

"So he wants you as well. Problem solved," Skywarp finally worded, breaking the momentary silence that had allowed Starscream to sink deeper into his memories and the tingles of arousal accompanying them.

Starscream swirled to face his purple trinemate, mouth agape and any trace of remembered pleasure swept away. "_What?_"

Skywarp startled little at his screeching expression of shock, the teleporter's optics steadily locking with Starscream's own.

"You want him to touch you, he knows that and keeps touching you. Doesn't that sorta mean that he wants it too?" The purple jet's voice was surprisingly reasonable, almost convincing, but the words were not.

"No! He can't… He's bluffing, he can't know! He's just saying that to get me admit it. He can't know," Starscream blurted out, mostly to keep his CPU from fully registering the teleporter's words and the little pulse of hope they tried to evoke.

"Mm, but what about that reliable source Megatron said he has? You know he has Soundwave on his side, if he wanted to know what you feel for him, he'd know it already. Why would he lie about that?"

Starscream was starting to hate his trinemates, or at least the things they said: such naïvety should have been unable of making him doubt his own words."It… It's a game! He's toying with me, he wants to show me he's more powerful. He's just guessing. Trying to fool me into confirming it. I know it."

"Well, even if that was true, what do you suppose Megatron would do if he knew 'bout you loving him?" Skywarp's tone was bored, the teleporter's optics fixed on Starscream's. In his agitated frame of mind, Starscream readily took the mild challenge in Skywarp's gaze, answering it with a heated glare and gritted dentas.

"He would use it against me. Humiliate me… How should I know, I'm not as twisted as he!" Starscream's lips curled into an annoyed snarl once more, his optics shifting from Skywarp to the floor. A snigger from the teleporter's direction, however, quickly snapped his attention back to the triumphal grin on the teleporter's faceplates, the jeering expression making the red jet immediately replay their conversation to see what he had said that Skywarp found so amusing. Starscream barely started to frown when realisation dawned on him, his vocaliser quick to activate in a furious shriek, "And I do **not** love him!"

Skywarp leered. "Yeah right, took you long enough to remember that."

A determined grip on his left wing kept Starscream from attacking Skywarp, the firm servo on the twitching appendage pulling him back to sit down. The lead Seeker turned to growl at Thundercracker, one Null-ray half-raised to point at his blue trinemate as his frayed nerves nearly got the best of him. The blue Seeker's faceplate scrunched in a serious frown as a result, his white lips curved with scolding disapproval Starscream knew to be directed at his unnecessarily violent reactions.

Thundercracker's voice held that same reproach when he spoke, "Calm down, Starscream. And you stop harassing him, Skywarp. I'll let him shoot you the next time if it means getting this mess solved sooner."

"Aw, TC! So cruel!" Skywarp whined, his mouth still forming a broad grin.

"Shut up 'Warp." The glare Thundercracker shot at the purple Seeker finally shut him up, Skywarp's pale mouth pouted in fake hurt.

Starscream turned his own gaze down, then lowered his arm as well, sitting back on the berth but with his frame stiffer than moments ago. Thundercracker gave him a calm look and his wing a reassuring squeeze before letting go of it. The blue Seeker's next words were spoken in a low tone of reason that Starscream apparently should've been able to see, "This is not going to work, 'Screamer. Why not tell Megatron and see what he really wants from you? You can't avoid it forever, you know."

"W-what?" Starscream bolted onto his pedes, this time not letting his trinemates pull him back on the berth. Optics ablaze, the red Seeker would have taken to indignantly stomping out of the door if not for the dangers he knew to lurk outside and in the loneliness of his own quarters. His dental plates gritted together with an audible crunch. "I will not tell him! And why couldn't I _'avoid it forever'_?"

"Well… He's Megatron."

Starscream snarled at the purple jet and the truth he didn't want to hear in his words. "I won't tell him! I can't let him win. All he wants is to degrade me!"

"Then what do you intend to do, Starscream?"

"To not tell him, moron!" Starscream's tone still missed the anger such a statement should have held. His desperate search for an escape route from the seemingly inevitable fall into hopelessness, however, had come to a stop at Thundercracker's words. They had challenged him to think of a way to treat this problem, the challenge lighting up a flame of proud rebellion, a part of Starscream's basic programming that had lately been subdued against his will. For the first time in joors, Starscream straightened his back struts and raised his chin, glaring down at his sitting trinemates with conceit.

Thundercracker asked what did he intended to do? Oh, he did not _intend_ to do anything, he _would_ do a lot of things – and none of them would be telling anything to Megatron.

Seemingly unaware of the confidence that had sparked inside Starscream, Thundercracker observed him with serious optics. "You can't go on like this, Starscream. Megatron will make you say whatever he wants to hear. Sooner or later. You won't solve anything by avoiding him and the problem."

A little honest whisper about Thundercracker being right tried to make itself heard in Starscream's CPU, but a sea of confident, boastful shouts drowned it. He would fight, and Megatron would not win this game of his easily, if at all.

"Ha! I won't let that rusted scrapheap win." Starscream strode to the door, his lip components finding the smirk that had been hiding under fear for solar cycles. The red Seeker whirled around for one more cocky glance at his trinemates, his feeling of smug self-confidence increasing at the sight of the other Seekers' surprised expressions.

Skywarp was the first to overcome his surprise, his trademark grin tugging at his lips. "Yeah, 'Screamer, you show him."

Starscream turned dubious optics at the teleporter, having known him for long enough – way too long – to know to wait for the punchline. As expected, Skywarp's face broke into a huge grin, a taunting look taking over his optics.

"We'll be ready to help you when you run back screaming for our protection and love," the purple jet teased.

Starscream snarled at the mocking words, but his refound confidence provided him with enough self-control that stifling the violent urges fanned by his insecurity was no longer impossible. He let his annoyance out as a dismissive snort and the sharp clicks of his heels, leaving the room with his wings hiked high.

He would show Megatron. The Seeker made his way to his quarters, his mind steady and steps purposeful. With his thoughts clearing step after step, Starscream had a plan ready by the time he reached his door. He could see what his problem had been, now. He had let things happen. That would change, from this moment on he would be making things happen, and the first 'thing' that he had to deal with was the problem with Megatron and contact and _feelings_.

Starting tomorrow, the tyrant would never grope his frame again, even if that promise made Starscream's Spark lurch and body cry out in disappointment.

* * *

With memories of annoying Seekers and their enraging complicatedness fresh in mind, waking up was not pleasant in any way. Having to online optics just to take in a horrible mess of upturned chairs, cluttered datapads and an amazingly deep, fist-shaped dent in the metal wall, however, was just adding insult to injury.

What made Megatron squint his optics, though, was the lack of one regular ingredient in the frequent chaoses that took over his quarters: the broken, or violently smashed, or just empty, energon cubes. The Decepticon leader spent a moment recalling why he had not drank high-grade last night, but when the realisation came, it arrived in the form of the tired slouching of his posture. The Decepticons were starting get short on energon, a raid would have to take place today. Megatron shortly thanked Primus for having made the plans for the energon raid yesterday and the day before that, during his productive streak – he would have to hold a strategical meeting about the raid this morning, and currently he did not feel strategical at all.

It took Megatron a hard pinch on the bridge of his nose and a frustratedly rumbling groan rising from his very core to brace himself to face the day, the upcoming meeting and raid, and first and foremost, the mess in his quarters.

A joor later the Decepticon leader had made his way to the Command Centre and even quickly looked at his plans for one more time, looking the datapads over for any holes in his strategies – it was usually Starscream's annoying comments' job to point out any flaws, imagined or not, in Megatron's plans, but the Seeker had not been up to even that task lately. The thought about his Second quickly diverted the Decepticon leader's attention to a problem far greater than the strategy which he had already polished yesterday before confronting Starscream.

Megatron wanted his Second back. Well, saying that he plain _wanted _the attracting Seeker was no lie either, but he couldn't help but feel that he needed to get his real, snarky Starscream back before he went further with his plans to have the Seeker in his berth. In some way, the indignant glitch was much more pleasant to deal with than the completely unpredictable, panicky mess Starscream lately was. Besides, Megatron honestly missed his Second's questionable competence, his Air Commander's haughty expertise. Slag it, he wanted back his number one traitor, too.

And then, like Megatron so vividly recalled everytime he saw the Seeker, he wanted _Starscream_. To possess the Seeker himself, all about him. The Decepticon leader desired to brand the lovely curve of Starscream's red hips as his, to remind the Seeker of just whose mark his perfect wings bore. Megatron wanted to tear the truth out of the jet, to force the glitch to confess his feelings.  
He had almost succeeded yesterday. With a soft growl, the Decepticon leader recalled the sounds of his Second's little gasps and moans, as infuriating as the Seeker's open desire had made the following events and the way the jet's body had screamed what his perfect mouth had tried to deny.

With a groan of either annoyance or satisfaction, Megatron slipped further into his memories from yesterday, letting his mind wander among the remembered sensations of heated frame pressed against his own, of the smoothness of Starscream's plating begging to be mapped out with fingers and glossa, before being scratched and bit and mauled…

Megatron startled awake from his memories when his internal chronometers reminded him about the meeting starting in half a joor. The Decepticon leader straightened himself in his chair, giving one more thought to his Second and the jet's attempts to deny the truth Megatron already was quite aware of. He would break that denial, Pit damn it, he would break _Starscream_ if he needed, then mould that little glitch into the perfect little Second in Command and soothe his own blinding lust for the Seeker. He would take the jet, he would own him and - -

"Ah, Lord Megatron. So _pleasing_ to see you."

For a nanoklik the gun-former thought he had gone insane, both because he had not heard _that_ tone in so long nor expected to hear it soon, and because he had never heard anyone enter the Command Centre.

The Decepticon leader turned to look at the Seeker standing in the hallway. Smirking arrogantly, cocking his red hips. Megatron's intakes hitched, a sound the silver mech hoped to not reach Starscream's audio receptors. The Decepticon leader's optics drank the familiar pride radiating from the Seeker's haughty posture and glowing optics.

Megatron realised his optics had stayed widened for a moment too long when Starscream's smirk drew even further to one side, his Second's optics flashing in a smug way. The Decepticon leader schooled his expression quickly, deciding against mockingly commenting about the comeback of Starscream's attitude and just examining the jet after narrowing his optics.

* * *

The Seeker smirked, pleased at seeing Megatron surprised. Ha, he had no doubt just ruined the tyrant's plans by not falling into the desperate confusion the gun-former had tried to sent him into. So Starscream had figured out, last night: Megatron's intention had all along been to make him desperate and lost. He still did not know why, neither was he sure if Megatron really wanted to force him to admit to desiring his leader or just to trouble him more with his words, but it did not matter anymore. Starscream had broken out of his fear and agitation, he could see where he was going, now – and that direction was the exact opposite of the one Megatron had tried to usher him into lately.

A movement from the silver mech made Starscream focus on his leader, his gaze sharp and steady and undeniably arrogant.

"Starscream."

The Seeker tried to stop the shiver running through his frame, in vain. The deep rumbling of his leader's voice, unreadable in tone but so powerful, aroused unexpected and un_wanted_ confusion in Starscream, making his sensors tingle. The fear, unchained in the late weeks, managed to break through once more, the tyrant's dark tone prodding at the deeply-etched fear of punishment and humiliation. The fear was helped by excited thrills of lust, brought about course through the Seeker after hearing his name spoken with such intensity.

Starscream had to force his chin to stay up and his gaze not to falter, forcing annoyed confidence to spark from the undesired feelings flooding into his core. "Yes, Lord Megatron?"

With his optics locked on Megatron's, Starscream immediately noticed the nearly feverish fire his leader's optics caught at his words. His fear intensified, almost taking over, the thumps of striding footsteps feeding it. Starscream snapped his wings up just when he felt them start to sink, the optic contact between him and Megatron never breaking, even as the tyrant now stood closer – so much closer, straight in front of him – to the jet.

"It's not like you to be in time, Starscream. Let alone _early_," Megatron finally said.

Starscream didn't answer, alarmed further by his leader's strange tone. He gritted his dental plates, gathering all of his confidence and forcing the fear down.

The tyrant leant a forward little, the optic contact between them finally breaking when Starscream's gaze turned to follow the movements of a black servo, his optics eventually coming to rest on his own chest just like his leader's huge hand. The servo covered his upper cockpit, the weight of it pressed there, warm, making Starscream's energon course faster through his systems. The Seeker risked a quick glance at Megatron's face, his Spark leaping when he caught the odd, contemplative frown on the silver faceplates. The gun-former's optics were still burning, too, their keenness making it considerably harder for Starscream to bury his lust and arousal than it had been to disregard his fear.

In spite of all his plans, all his certainty about ending _this_, Starscream nearly leant into the touch, almost raised his own servos to press Megatron's more firmly against him. He had known this would be the greatest problem, but the worst-case scenarios he had went through last night didn't even start to compare to the current situation, his self-control crumbling when Megatron had barely even touched him.

With a hitch of his vocaliser, Starscream realised that regardless of his decisions and confidence and pride, he would not succeed in killing his lust for his leader. Megatron's servo moved a little on his cockpit glass, light and almost teasing. The Seeker's dentas sank deep into his lower lip component as he growled inwardly, forcing himself to think about the shameful defeat that leaning into the touch would mean. He could not fail now. He had buried his desire for vorns, and even if Megatron deliberately trying to get hold of his secrets made everything harder, Starscream had never been one to lose.

He had to break the contact between them or he wouldn't be able to think straight.

Megatron's fingers tightened a little on his cockpit before letting go as Starscream took a stubborn step back, and the Seeker couldn't restrain an open-mouthed gasp, the sound mocking his decision to not give into Megatron and his wants.

"_Starscream_," Megatron growled, almost softly, and if it had not been so pathetic Starscream would've overloaded at the spot just because of that low, threatening utterance of his name. However, as that bliss of release was denied of him, the Seeker took to feeding his pride instead, filling his mind with images of power and leadership about which he had forgotten in the past weeks. He would lead the Decepticons someday, he couldn't let Megatron humiliate him with his own feelings, he was better than that.

"I would appreciate it if you kept your servos to yourself in the future, Leader," Starscream said, and even if he had to force the venom into his voice and the spitefulness into his optics, it felt good to see Megatron's face first go blank in surprise and then twist into a snarl.

"I will do whatever I want to, just as I will make you do whatever I want you to do, Seeker. Why prolong a battle you've already lost?"

"Lost? Oh, I don't think so, Lord Megatron," Starscream smirked, then cast a quick glance at the door when it slid open. "Your meeting is due to begin. I can't wait to hear what inane plan you have to share this time."

The glare Megatron shot at him made the Coneheads cautiously lingering in the doorway startle and back into the corridor, even as Soundwave stepped up from behind them, the telepath's helm tilted in a curious way. Starscream sneered at the tape deck before taking his seat in a carefree way. From the corner of his optic, the Seeker could see Megatron sinking down into his throne, the tyrant's optics burning an enraged, barely controlled crimson.

Starscream had almost forgotten how good it felt to _win_, even if he knew that he would feel Megatron's rage later, either after the meeting or the energon raid, depending on if his expertise was needed during the raid.

* * *

Megatron got through the meeting only by gritting his dental plates and snapping at his Second every other klik, the Seeker's comments growing in boldness as Megatron's orders to _mute it_ grew in volume. Still, Starscream's defiance made his Spark pulse faster and his processors sharpen as he wanted to choke and shoot and 'face the Seeker all at the same time.

It seemed he had been only partly right about wanting Starscream's rebellious attitude back; now that the Seeker ran his vocaliser endlessly, smirked at him in that infuriatingly arousing way, Megatron had to admit that this would unlikely solve anything. Yes, the jet cowered no more, but denied everything and even more all the same, that fact proven by the events before the meeting.

Megatron finished the meeting with a bunch of orders and a notion that they would leave for the raid in two joors. He had his optics off Starscream, but he could spot that familiar clicking of thruster-heels even amongst the sound of the other Seekers' footsteps. The red Seeker was on his way to the door.

"Starscream, you stay. There are a few issues in need of thorough discussion."

"Is that so, Leader?" the Seeker chirped, his audible smugness making Megatron turn to level a glare at him.

An unsure, metallic sound had the Decepticon leader's attention soon diverting from Starscream, though, his optics turning to regard Soundwave. The telepath stood near the door, looking somewhat hesitant, even worried about something. Megatron squinted at the tape deck's reaction, then snarled and shook his servo dismissively. He didn't need the telepath right now.

"So… What is it you want to discuss this time? Our latest 'discussion', as I recall, was quite _heated_."

Megatron swirled around the moment the door closed behind Soundwave, his rage catching fire at his Second's suggestive purr. With a couple furious steps, Megatron was looming over the smaller mech, optics locked with the beautiful ones arrogantly raised to meet his.

"What are you playing at, Seeker!" It came out as a roar, one Megatron could not even begin to control or tone down. Starscream did flinch, naturally, but seeing how quick the Seeker was to return to his defiance further provoked Megatron's lust-plagued anger.

"Oh, that's what I've wanted to ask you for weeks," Starscream retorted.

The gun-former's servos tightened into fists, one drawing back to throw a punch at his Second before Megatron had thought about hitting the Seeker. The impact of his fist and those attractive faceplates felt good, the surprised squawk Starscream let out a definite bonus. The Seeker stumbled onto the floor, his optics wide and mouth half-open. It seemed Starscream had not remembered that slipping back to their normal routines also meant receiving frequent physical punishments.

The silver mech strode up to his Second, glaring down at the sprawled Seeker. "Don't test my patience, Starscream. I assure you that it won't be healthy for you."

The Seeker seemed to find his defiance, Megatron's optics devouring the sneer he couldn't help but find rousing. There was a conceited tinge to Starscream's words when he spoke, "Ha, it's not as if you could shoot me now. Your idiotic raid would never succeed if I wasn't there to take care of everything."

Megatron charged his cannon for a shot, his optics sharp as he observed the wary look which flashed on the jet's dark faceplates at the low hum of his weapon.

"This is not over yet, Starscream. And I'm sure we both know who is going to win, eventually."

The Decepticon leader left the Command Centre only after a shot that left a burn mark on the floor, right where Starscream's Spark chamber had been before the Seeker dodged out of the way.

* * *

The energon raid turned out to be an enormous success, Astrotrain's cargo hold filled with fresh energon and with not a single Decepticon harmed. In all ways, it had been a great victory.

The scenery flew past below the Decepticons, excited chattering buzzing over the general comm. Starscream flew with his trinemates, a safe distance from Megatron.

A crackle of the trine-link made the red Seeker stop replaying the memory files from the Command Centre and turn his attention to his wingmates.

_'You think we'll have a party tonight, 'Screamer?'_ Skywarp inquired with clear excitement, lazily catching up with the red Seeker to take his side.

_'We do deserve it. Then again, our illustrious leader seems to be in rather a bad mood. I wouldn't put it above him to deny the troops a celebration only because he does not feel like celebrating, himself,'_ Starscream answered scornfully.

_'Wow, you sure recovered fast, 'Screamy! So now you don't fear or love Megatron at all anymore?'_ Skywarp teased, alerting Thundercracker into activating his own side of the link.

_'Shut up, 'Warp. We should enjoy our victory. I can't remember the last time we'd gathered so much energon!'_ Thundercracker exclaimed a little hurriedly.

Starscream snorted. Oh, his good mood would not be so easily destroyed. It would take much more than Skywarp deliberately annoying him.

_'Though to tell the truth, I can't help but wonder if it's a good idea to start annoying Megatron now… He seemed quite frustrated with you back during the meeting,'_ Thundercracker added after a klik.

_'What should I do about his 'frustration', then? Let him touch me some more? I don't recall it had any effect on his lovable nature, either. He'll remain the same violent brute no matter what I do,'_ Starscream snapped back, unable to not pay attention to the lie he had told. It hadn't been as if Megatron had been violent, or even honestly hateful, while chasing and touching him. His leader had shown a lot more patience than Starscream had ever thought he possessed, too. Which, of course, only assured the red Seeker that the plans Starscream had ruined by regaining his confidence had been particularly awful. Something the tyrant had been ready to work slowly. The jet shuddered, partly at the idea and partly because his mind had slipped back to replaying certain memory files he shouldn't have thought about anymore.

_'Starscream. He beats you only because you refuse to submit to him,' _the blue Seeker answered somewhat tiredly.

_'Submit to him! Why would I want to do that? Why __**should** I__?'_ Starscream shrieked in newly-sparked fury.

_'Because he's our leader. That's kind of the point, you know.'_

Starscream growled over the trine-link.

_'Primus you're thick, 'Screamer.'

* * *

_

Megatron didn't need to activate his audio receptors to register that the Decepticons, freshly returned from the gratifyingly successful energon raid, were giddy due to the amount of energon they had gathered – and the party they were usually allowed to throw after such a victory. The Decepticon leader found no such enthusiasm from his CPU, though. Sure, the success had affected his mood, but only by not making it worsen. The storm brewing inside him was not showing any signs of subsiding.

The silver mech turned his optics up at the feeling of someone expectantly staring him, meeting Soundwave's visor with a burning glare. The tape deck observed him for a moment, then cautiously opened his vocaliser when Megatron finally activated his audios again.

"Decepticons: wishing to celebrate victory. Megatron's approval: required..?"

The gun-former cycled a deep intake, not really pondering about giving his troops the permission to throw a party, but keeping his silence for a moment longer, if just to aggravate Soundwave – Megatron did not feel particularly nice right now, and teasing his loyal telepath was slightly satisfying.  
"Permission given. You are to keep count of the cubes. Shockwave will need a new batch of energon and there won't be a new raid within a month just because my troops saw fit to waste all of the energon right away."

Soundwave nodded, then parted with a routine _"As you command, Megatron"_.

The silver mech snorted, contemplating catching a few high-grades for himself and retreating into his quarters, when his optics caught the sight of his Second, always so pretty, always so annoying, so … provocative. No matter how hard Megatron tried to control himself, knowing that confronting the Seeker would not be wise in his current frame of mind, the slight tilt of Starscream's hips, the way his wings perked as he talked with his trinemates, back turned towards Megatron, made the Decepticon leader unable to turn his attention elsewhere.

He wanted Starscream to be his already, slag it. Had he not warned the Seeker? Had he not given his Second time to think about it all, even time to find his rebellious attitude and build up his idiotic denial? Had Megatron not been more than patient, gradual and gentle in his approach?  
He had not forced the jet into anything. So far.

"**Starscream!**"

The tri-coloured Seeker jumped. Frag, every single Decepticon still lingering about the flight deck jumped. Megatron did not care about them, his optics locked on his Second, scouring every centimetre of the jet's plating, first his stiffened back and then his front, when Starscream slowly turned around. By the time Megatron's optics reached Starscream's, the fear he had seen in the slight trembles of the blue fingers and the twitches of the broad wings had vanished, the dark faceplates set in a contemptuous smirk.

"Was there something you wanted, Mighty Megatron?" Starscream sneered.

Megatron noticed the alarmed expressions the Seeker's trinemates' faces bore out of his optic corner, the two other jets seeming to contemplate whether stepping forth to restrain their trineleader was worth of putting themselves at the possible risk of facing the receiving end of Megatron's Fusion Cannon. The gun-former scowled, annoyed at the witnesses crowding on the flight deck. Nothing he wanted to do with Starscream was something that he wanted the eyes of public to follow.

"Yes there is, my Second. Another 'private discussion'!" Megatron roared finally, ignoring the way Starscream's trinemates' expressions turned into open shock and concentrating on their trineleader's faceplates which went blank, the familiar panic once more swirling in the expressive optics. Starscream seemed to have learnt to tame his fear quite quickly, though, the spiteful sneer quickly back in place on the red jet's face as he strode up to Megatron.

The silver mech scowled at the Seeker, his joints tensing when Starscream only stopped standing just in front of him, their chests almost brushing. It was by no means normal, such an intimate proximity between the leader and Second, a fact which the other Decepticons seemed to notice too if the increasing volume of whispers was any indication.

"Another _conversation_, Megatron? I thought I made my stance quite clear during the last one," Starscream said loudly, that damned smirk mocking Megatron just like the Seeker's words and the events in the Command Centre to which they referred.

The warlord roared, backhanding his Second. _Hard_, as the plating of his own servo stung a little at the impact. "Your opinions matter little in this, fool! We are through discussing this only when I say so."

The snarl on Megatron's face turned even more feral when Starscream gathered his footing and act and cast him one more haughty, rebellious glance.

"As you command, oh Great Leader."

He didn't need to tell his Second to follow, the clatter of his heels told Megatron that Starscream was indeed following – with far too much triumph in the lightness of his steps. The Decepticon leader didn't turn back to confirm it, but he was sure that the jet was strutting as they made their way through the corridors of the base.

Towards the Decepticon Commander's quarters for the second time in two solar cycles. Or that had been the silver mech's intention, one that his duties did not seem to agree with.  
Megatron cursed aloud as they passed the door the Command Centre and he recalled that he had to contact Shockwave and send the cubes he had promised the cyclops. He could have ignored it, probably, but after one coy _"What is it now, Lord Megatron?"_, there was no denying that there was something he should take care of before dealing with his Second. It would have made him seem ridiculous, cursing at 'nothing'.

Megatron's quick turn around made him end up glaring straight into Starscream's optics, their faceplates brought close as the Seeker had not had time to step back. A dangerous growl rumbled deep from Megatron's chest before he could form any words, a cold statement following the sound after a moment, "Sadly our conversation has to wait a little, as I have something far more important to deal with first. Do not think that you're dismissed, though."

The jet didn't move until Megatron shoved him out of his way, too fed up with his Second's antics to wait to discover just why the Seeker had no tried to lengthen the distance between their bodies. The gun-former stepped into the Command Centre, Starscream following him still, but the sound of his footsteps quieter now.

* * *

Starscream stood just behind his leader's back, feigning impatience even as he appreciated the standstill. He needed the time to get his feelings under control – if such state of clarity of feelings even existed in him anymore.

The red Seeker cursed under his breath. He had been so sure when they had returned from the mission, certain that all he wanted was for Megatron to stop touching him and return to beating and arguing with him, but then the rustbucket had had to call his name in that intense way of his, the tone blowing away Starscream's certainty. He had tried to clung to conceit and insubordination, but even as he didn't feel half as fearful as yesterday, Starscream still couldn't abandon his lust. When Megatron had turned around at the door to the Command, Starscream had barely kept in a startled gasp, his body once again deciding it wanted to belong to Megatron, almost leaning toward the tyrant.

Starscream growled in frustration and uncertainty, quickly turning the sound into an expression of boredom when Megatron's burning optics turned to shoot a glare at him. The Seeker answered the scowl with one of his own, then announced loudly, "Are you done with discussing with that boring sycophant yet? I can't comprehend why you want to make video calls with that drone, it isn't as if there's much to see about his _face_."

The Seeker smirked at the low grumble Megatron let out at his words. Shockwave had undoubtedly heard them too, Starscream had made sure to speak in a tone sharp enough.

Despite Starscream's exaggerated expressions of impatience and frustration, including a clicking cadence of taps from his heels and many a blasé sigh and sniff, Megatron took three more kliks to settle everything with Shockwave, finally agreeing to sending a fair amount (far too big, like Starscream had helpfully informed) of energon cubes to Cybertron. The tyrant had then commed Soundwave who, judging by Megatron's part of the short exchange Starscream had heard, had been interrupted in the middle of arranging the night's celebration.

Finally, the silver mech turned to face Starscream, his expression dark once more.

"Ah, finally. You have been so … _focussed_ on me lately, I couldn't believe you found the patience to deal with those annoying scrapheaps for so _long_," Starscream whined, tone adjusted to sound as irritating as possible.

He had not anticipated such a strong reaction from his leader, a startled groan spilling from him when he was rammed into and shoved against a wall.

* * *

Pinning the Seeker to the wall felt surprisingly satisfying even as Megatron knew it to be only beginning. The Decepticon leader leant into the Seeker's face, his servos finding their way to curl around neck-cables and a wing while his Second was too dazed to resist. Their frames touching, Megatron could feel the moment Starscream registered what was going on, the startle of the jet's body rattling the silver mech's own plating.

"W-what are you doing!"

Megatron growled at the distressed shriek, enjoying the cracks in his Second's attitude.

"Not so defiant now, are we? I warned you about testing my patience, didn't I, Starscream?" Megatron whispered in a malicious tone, his lips drawn back to bare his dental plates. The Seeker's face tightened, in fear or in some last trace of pride, Megatron did not know or care. What he cared about was making the Seeker submit to him. Today. Soon. Now.

"Are you – agh- becoming more sensitive with age, Megatron? I can't believe y-you're so worked up about such an insignificant thing like … _this_."

Megatron closed the rest of the distance between their faceplates, the tips of their noses clicking together slightly, a red bridge of light formed between their locked optics.

The Decepticon leader's servo remained tight around the supple – now dented – cabling of Starscream's neck, holding the jet close and restraining him from leaning away. Megatron's other servo, however, was free to do whatever it wanted, and what it wanted was to explore Starscream's body. A wingtip the first victim of his digits, Megatron pinched it lightly at first, encouraged to twist it savagely by a reluctant hitch of the jet's vocaliser. The effect his touch had on the Seeker was arousing; Starscream's wild shriek hold a great deal of pleasure in it, Megatron's Spark thrilling as the sound caressed his plating, the Seeker's lips almost brushing his when they flew open to let the scream free.

"'Such an insignificant thing' affects you so strongly?" Megatron growled into the jet's faceplates when Starscream took to moaning quietly, slightly bucking against the larger mech as his black digits left the smooth, hot surface of the wing. The white appendage twitched at the lack of contact, making the gun-former smirk. "Admit defeat, Starscream. This doesn't have to happen against your will."

Megatron counted the astroseconds, his optics keenly observing the visible struggle on the jet's face, his digits returning to squeeze the underside of Starscream's wing just when the Seeker's vocaliser activated, whatever he had intended to say – something insubordinate and irritating, if the sneer on his face served to hint anything – turned into another passionate scream. The warlord barked a triumphal laughter at the Seeker's lost exclamation of rebellion, then loosened his grip on the wing and throat a little to let his Second answer him.

"I will **never** submit," the Seeker rasped, his tone quiet but insolent still. Infuriating enough to make Megatron's mood decline a lot; his anger, almost murderous, reignited by Starscream's words.

"Why do you have to be so complicated!" The Decepticon leader slammed the Seeker further into the wall, uncaring of the startled grunt of pain that escaped the dark lips. "I know what you feel for me, and I know you know that I do. Why can't you admit it finally?"

Starscream squirmed against his grip, his dental plates bared in snarl whose fierceness matched the fire Megatron felt burning inside him. "Because you're a disgusting manipulative glitch, my dear leader, that's why. I hate you! Your position is the only thing I desire in you!"

The Seeker tried to fling himself against Megatron, but the warlord's grasp held, his digits now crushing the delicate neck and ripping at the wing they had captured, tearing pained groans from the Seeker's vocaliser. The Decepticon leader snarled, his tightened grip around the jet's neck drawing an undignified half-gurgle, half-yelp out of Starscream.

"Oh, so it's anger that your fans are straining to cool down? Your hate that makes you _press _into my touch? I find myself doubting that, Starscream!"

Starscream let out a deafening howl, desperation evident in his voice and optics. Megatron growled, about to move his grasp from the wing to the perfectly crafted mouth to mute the shrieking when the Seeker swung his leg up in a surprising show of flexibility, the heel-thruster hitting Megatron's side, his momentary confusion drawing out as a nasty punch hit his faceplates. In a flurry of movement, the jet barrelled into him, then rushed past him, then reached the centre of the large room.

The Seeker seemed to grow victorious as Megatron tried to clear his processor, glancing back as he took off towards the door. However, there was one thing Starscream ignored, or was plain unaware of: Megatron could be fast when he wanted – quite fast, indeed – and that with two long strides and an extended arm, he could easily exploit the Seeker's slight disadvantage in this situation– the large wings.

Starscream yelped when the silver mech curled his fingers around a wing, the sound escalating into a ripping scream when Megatron pulled back fiercely, the sensitive metal bending in his ruthless grasp.

The room echoed with the clang that Starscream's frame made as it met the opposite wall, the Seeker's pain-filled screech one more of those unbelievably high-pitched, audio-stinging sounds. Megatron wasted no time, acting while his opponent, his Second, was trying to regather himself. His servos quick reclaim their places, one on the neck and one on a wing, Megatron devoured the sight of Starscream's optics recalibrating only to widen in panic. Oh, it _was_ all so much more satisfying when the Seeker fought back!

"Ready to give up yet, Starscream?" Megatron purred, his servo sliding up the cables of Starscream's neck, finally coming to grasp and tilt up the Seeker's chin in a manner which his Second seemed to find promising in some way – the jet melted into his touch, his fans kicking into high gear and his optics half-offlining. Megatron grinned at the delicious sight of the hungrily parted dark lips, his anger stepping aside from the way of triumphal desire.

The Decepticon leader let the wing go after a moment's deliberation, moving the servo to rest on the glass of Starscream's cockpit, teasing his way down and savouring the sounds the Seeker made, his fingers working hard to make them louder, to make the jet's body shiver even more forcefully.

A jerk of Starscream's body and a shameless moan from the Seeker's lips marked the moment when Megatron's digits reached the white interface panel on the jet's lower cockpit.

"M-Megatron!"

The moan of his name made the warlord's systems stall, the Seeker's needy expression making him let go of the charcoal grey chin to allow Starscream throw his helm back in passion. His other servo teased the panel, tracing its seams and brushing against it in a gentle way that he hoped to coax the Seeker into giving him access to the interface equipment hiding under the metal cover.

"L-leader…"

A ragged spike of lust shot from the gun-former's Spark, wrenching free an embarrassing, strangled grunt from Megatron's vocaliser.

The Decepticon leader crushed the smaller body against his, every single centimetre of Starscream's scorching-hot plating, each new twitch or shudder running through the tri-coloured body telling Megatron just how intense the Seeker's desire was – Starscream wanted him, _needed_ him.

This had really been postponed for too long.

The silver mech leant closer, his thick, feverish words muted against the Seeker's dark helm, "Don't you think it's time to end this finally, Starscream? Open to me."

The clack of the panel was drowned by the 'whoosh' of the door and a loud, surprised gasp from the doorway, the sounds making Megatron want to shoot someone's head off, maybe even his own, because it would take ages to get this far with the Seeker again and he was beginning to feel a little fed up.

Megatron's momentary desperation got replaced by anger when Starscream shrieked in panic, or horror, or desperation matching the gun-former's own, and ripped himself free of the light grasp the Decepticon leader didn't have the time or the presence of mind to tighten. Megatron could count the steps it took the jet to reach the door, he even heard the faint click Starscream's panel made as it closed again.

With a crazed roar, the Decepticon leader turned to face the stunned figure in the hallway, a storm brewing in his Spark.

"**Get out!**"

But the damage was already done, seeing as Soundwave, ready to report about successfully sending the energon to Cybertron like the dutiful mech he was, was not the only mech to obey. Megatron stared –disappointed and enraged beyond words even when he knew he should have been expecting this by now – at his Second's quick retreat out of the door.

The sound of distancing, clicking footsteps had become too familiar by now.

* * *

Starscream howled as he ran, having no idea what to believe or feel. Excitement still thrilled his Spark, slowly eaten away by fear and panic and disbelief – he had opened his panel for his leader!

He would have let Megatron use him once again if not for Soundwave's unintended interference.

Starscream could have kissed the telepath for saving him if he had not been in such a hurry to get away from his leader. Somewhere safe. He had no idea if such place even existed in the Decepticon HQ, but his instincts had obviously led him well, his whole frame rattling when he crashed into someone, a loud, surprised shriek spilling from his vocaliser.

Skywarp.

The door the purple Seeker had been stepping out of wailed as the two jets fell back against it. The red Seeker glanced around quickly, finding himself crushing his purple trinemate against the door of his trine's quarters.

"What the frag, 'Screamer! You really are one to complain about me using you as cushion!"

"Megatron!" the red Seeker screamed, not really answering the teleporter any more than he was apologising, but managing to make Skywarp take interest in the beaten, overheating shape of his frame. The purple jet's optics quickly roamed over his body, his optic ridges frowning.

"You're running from him again? This ain't gonna work, 'Screamer. You'll only anger him more," the teleporter uttered after a tired sigh, raising his servos to Starscream's chest in an attempt to shove him off his frame.

"You… You have to help me, Skywarp!" Starscream screeched, his desperate plea ringing in the corridor, finally fading when it reached the end of the hallway.

The purple Seeker eyed him over with a thoughtful expression, then shook his helm. "You know, 'Screamer, I'm starting to grow tired of this. Just tell Megatron already and be done with it."

Anger, though strongly fear-flavoured variety of the emotion, took over Starscream as he bolted onto his pedes finally, letting his trinemate climb up onto his feet too. "No! And it's none of your business! Just help me!"

"It sorta is 'my business' when TC and I have to drag your aft out of trouble and act as some mute support group for you! Maybe I'd feel more like helping if you tried to listen to our advice for a change!" Skywarp snapped, taking a step forward with a rare snarl on his white faceplates. "Pit damn it, I wanna go join TC in the party, not deal with you right now!"

Starscream growled, shoving his trinemate back against the door with a fierce shriek, slamming his fists down on the door hard, bare millimetres from Skywarp's black wings. The teleporter's optics widened in upset, his mouth gaping; wings were a sensitive and valued part of any Seeker's body, and for another flier to harm or even threaten to harm them was insulting. Starscream was startled himself, too, no matter how often he pointed his weapons at his trinemates. This was different, insulting in another way. The red Seeker wanted to apologise, and he would have if not for the wild fear controlling his actions… and vocaliser, "Then help your trineleader, you ungrateful glitch! It isn't as if I enjoyed your company either! Just teleport me in someplace safe or something and you'll be free to go drink your aft off!"

The purple Seeker pushed Starscream aside roughly, then grabbed his arm in a tight grip.

"What are you doing? I didn't ask you to crush my arm, you fragger!"

The teleporter scowled at him in scorn, with most anger Starscream had ever seen his easy-going trinemate's optics reflect, then spat out, "Helping you!"

Starscream startled at the feeling of being sucked through the warp gate, his optics offlining at the purple flash and his body feeling like it had stretched and been divided into pieces and rebuilt in a new place. The red Seeker's optics flickered online just as he felt the grip around his arm loosen.

He took in his surroundings, optics narrowed as he contemplated the safety the place offered.

The room looked like it always did: a bit empty, a bit lonely and extremely bare.  
In short, a huge but mostly unused space. Empty. And it had a desk Starscream remembered laying sprawled over on more than a few occasions and…

"Are out of your mind!" Starscream screamed, whirling around to see the flash of purple light signalling Skywarp's inevitable departure. The purple Seeker stood there for a moment longer to mockingly grin at the red jet one more time.

"Maybe this'll help you solve your problem! See ya!"

The red Seeker's desperate attempt to grasp the purple Seeker only made him stumble as his fingers reached nothing but air, his lunge at his trinemate ending up against the door of Megatron's quarters.

The door? Locked, of course, even from the _inside_. With a code Starscream would never be allowed to know.

There was no way around it, not even a faint path littered with explosives: Starscream was **trapped** in his leader's quarters.

* * *

Megatron had killed Soundwave. In his mind, anyway; he had ripped the telepath limb from limb, component from component, tore away his Spark and split it into pieces before extinguishing it, pretty much done everything a particularly cruel Decepticon could have thought of and more. But only in his processors. In reality, he had strode into the corridor to see the last of Starscream's tri-coloured plating vanish from sight, then glared at the tape deck who had awkwardly lingered in the hallway. Megatron had been heaving the heaviest, most enraged, most _useless_ intakes he had ever cycled and tried not to raise his already-charged cannon at his loyal telepath even when that had been all he had wanted to do.

Soundwave had been understandably tentative and even apologised for his interference. Not that it had done anything to calm Megatron's anger.

Eventually, the Decepticon leader had let the telepath go, strode the hallways of the base after dissolving the charge of his Fusion Cannon, and ended up walking to the storage room to grab and subspace a reckless amount of high-grade. He was ready to spend the rest of the night getting drunk out of his processors, uncaring of the awaiting hangover. It certainly couldn't feel any worse than his current state, anyway. Besides, the Decepticons had gathered a lot of energon today, Megatron could drink all he wanted without feeling bad at all.

And then there was one more reason, the most pressing one: he needed the liquid to make himself forget about Starscream and the most recent, most infuriating failure.  
That had been the closest he had got to winning the Seeker. The jet's interface panel had been _open_ when Soundwave had disrupted them! Primus damn it all, a part of the Decepticon leader was almost ready to give up with the Seeker and his tiresome complicatedness.

Megatron reached the door of his quarters after what felt like an endless march accompanied by the furious echoes of his own steps. Everyone else seemed to be celebrating by now, the hallways barren. Megatron couldn't help but wonder if Starscream had retreated into the relative safety of the drunken crowd, too.

Instead of opening the door, Megatron smashed his helm against it with an enraged roar that was left wandering down the empty corridor as an equally ferocious echo. He wanted to kill something.


	14. Connected Confessions

**AN: **Oh, yes, I actually am still alive. Barely, I have to admit.

Nevertheless, the 14th chapter is here! And it has a Plug&Play sex scene, or something like that, which I hope you find satisfying. Oh, there is a … confusing part too, one that I could've replaced with flashback if I didn't hate them. I tried to make it as clear as I could, I even _italicised _the dialogue of that part. Sorry for my being stupid, hope you won't be too confused!

Feedback would be the loveliest thing you could offer, thanks for the reviews I've got so far!

**

* * *

14. Connected Confessions

* * *

**

Starscream's first reaction to being trapped had been a burst of anger, and violence, then a barrage of screams of an unnatural pitch, the whole dark room taken over by a cacophony that held no other message than that of disapproval and, more prominently, panic. The stinging of the Seeker's own audios had finally silenced him to realise that all the shrieks and random blasts of Null-ray fire had done nothing to improve his trapped state.

That realisation had encouraged rationality to take over, with its calmer and more scientific approach to the concept of getting out, namely testing the lock and various codes to open the door and, finally, blasting the panel by the door with his guns. Not that it had much helped; the lock refused to open and the door turned out to be impenetrable – whether Megatron's door was generally reinforced against all kinds of ammunition and laserfire or specifically immunised against Starscream's Null-rays, the Seeker did not know, but the results of his shot were puny all the same.

The moment's hope of a safe and swift escape, foolish maybe but essential to his sanity, was violently smashed into nothingness as no way out of the situation, or the room, revealed itself.

A flurry of renewed panic rushed through Starscream, merging with his anger to aid his mind in coming up with new ways to get out. Regardless of the fresh ideas, however, kliks of kicking and punching and screeching at the door later, his vocaliser rough from screaming at Skywarp's, then Thundercracker's, unresponsive sides of the trine-link to _come and_ _get him the Pit out of here this instant_, Starscream realised that it was not working. The door defiantly stood in its place, barely dented, and his trinemates were either too over-energised to answer or simply ignoring him.

His fist connected with the heavy door for what had to be the hundredth time, even if the only perceptible proof were his own sore knuckle joints, as the shallow dent in the metal remained, well, _shallow_. Insultingly so. His additional punch, reflecting rather his frustration than any real hope of breaching the door, met the same unrelenting metal, a bored _bang_ echoing in the dim room.

The hysterical rage left his body, replaced by nothing but dull helplessness and a touch of panic waiting for its chance to fully claim him. He was trapped. A terrified sound broke free from his vocaliser, half a squeak and half a whimper.

Just about to sink onto the floor, servos clutching his helm to keep it from falling into pieces of helpless trepidation, Starscream startled from near hysterics into sharp panicked attention as a distant _thump_ reached his audios. By the time the heavy, threatening sound recurred, the Seeker's Spark had started a riot in his chest, trying to fight its way through the metal encasing it.

Footsteps. _Approaching_ footsteps. Unmistakable, their frustrated rhythm and weight familiar, _too _familiar, to the Seeker. Megatron, of course.

Starscream darted back to the door, his fingers fumbling with the panel once more. The buttons blipped unhappily under his digits, each new press earning him a redder hue to the light flashing in the panel, until a long, offended _bleep_ sounded in the room. The sound of impending doom, as it took no genius to understand that the door _would not open_. Not to say that the Seeker was sure whether he had really wanted to burst into the corridor when Megatron would have been there to witness it and figure out that he had been in his leader's quarters, anyway.

Null-rays already raised and half-turned to one of the windows, Starscream started when a thought struck him. It was clear, deceptively so, and had the Seeker had time to think about the plan presented, he would have deemed it dangerous and improbable to work. Even now he could see that it leant much too heavily on impeccable timing and luck that he, in the light of recent events, didn't believe to possess. Yet he had no time for honing the draft of an escape plan, which was why he found himself pressed against the wall beside the door; Null-rays charged, leg joints tense and thruster-heels sputtering their readiness to launch him into desperate sprint once the silver mech fell offline.

Listening to the approaching footsteps, Starscream felt his Spark and thoughts race but forced himself to focus, to prepare himself, to - -

Each and every hope Starscream had had of a safe escape from Megatron's quarters vaporised in a great hurry as something _thunked_ hard against the heavy door. The frustrated sound scared the Seeker into immediate panic, his body tense and tormented by prickles of anxiety, yet it did not prepare him for the next sound that broke through the door.

The roar froze Starscream's Spark with fear, both instinctive and conscious, any controlled and refined thought rushing out of his processor as panic ran over him and screamed that the anger in the furious sound, still echoing faintly through the door, was solely caused by him. Directed at him, too. That thought, or the sense of uncontrollable dread it awakened, was what made Starscream – thoughtlessly and against his sketch of a plan – stumble away from the source of the chilling roar, his heels way too noisy on the hard floor as he sought balance.

Way too noisy, indeed. For a nanoklik, there was only silence, a suffocating feeling of anxiety and dread before his leader's rough, growling, _enraged_ voice pierced the door this time taking a form of actual words, _"Who's there?"_, accompanied by maliciously cheerful little blips that preceded the opening of the door.

The part of his plan where he bolted back to the door and shot Megatron the moment the last barrier of thick metal between them slid aside pushed its way past the panic, if only to make him do something instead of frozenly standing there in the middle of the dark room.

Starscream bolted forward the instant the door opened, his Null-rays letting out a high-pitched sound as he fired.

* * *

Megatron's mind snapped rapidly off the thought about ripping the intruder in his quarters in half as something attacked him, a blur of movement followed by a familiar sound of his Second's guns. The response to that sound had long ago been engraved into his systems, his instinctive jump to the side completely unaffected by the numerous confused questions waking in his mind, his movements carefully choreographed to leave him close enough to reach and grab the gun on his Second's arm and _wrench_.

"Ah! Let me go!"

Satisfaction surged straight into Megatron's Spark at the sound of his Second's hoarse screech, the Seeker's right rifle briefly crushed in his hand before a careless flick of his arm sent it skittering on the floor somewhere down the corridor.

Then he was on Starscream again, the intact – for the time being – twin of the discarded Null-ray warm in his fingers, his other hand curled around the supple neck-cables still dented after their latest meeting. The Seeker's blue hands rose to claw at Megatron's own much larger servo, but the gun-former stopped Starscream's feeble attempts to pry the fingers from around his neck with a forceful yank of his other hand, the wail of rending metal nearly drowned by a shrill screech of pain. A bright shower of sparks and the warmth of the weapon now crushed in his hand made Megatron's lips break into a sadistic smirk, the flashes of electricity betraying that his rough disarming had coincided with the Seeker charging the gun.

Happy metallic clinks accompanied the second weapon's trip down the corridor, Megatron's optics drawn to the way the sound seemed to help the Seeker realise his state of disarmament and vulnerability. The dark faceplates fell into momentary blankness, the usually lively optics frozen in a vapid stare only waiting to be swept aside by fear, or anger, or whatever feeling was waiting for its chance to well up from the Seeker's fiery Spark. The sly, experimental loosening of Megatron's fingers around the neck apparently shook the red jet to leave his stupor with a violent twist of his body and a swing of a bright blue fist. Megatron's low, belittling rumble of laughter stopped the fist partway, his own servo moving almost lazily to curl around the Seeker's smaller one to ensure it wouldn't try to retain its course towards his faceplates.

"No! Get your servos off me, you brute!"

Megatron's smirk grew wider at the screech and the Seeker's following try to rip himself free and bolt into the corridor.

"Ah-ah, you only leave when dismissed," the warlord chided, his tone soaked in triumph and a kind of deep satisfaction the Decepticon leader had not believed the evening to offer him. "I am quite curious as to the reasons of your presence here in my quarters."

All it took to push his Second back inside the dim room was a minor hardening of his grip both on the Seeker's neck and his fist and an effortless shove. The warlord followed his Second suit, stepping into the spacious room with his digits already dancing on the buttons of the doorframe panel. The gun-former shifted his optics to Starscream's face just in time to see the thinning streak of yellowish light lighting the attractive features, shining from the side of the door the Seeker clearly wished to occupy, one more glint of lamplight flashing in the shock-widened optics before it vanished to let a much more intense red illuminate the dark face. Megatron yanked the jet close in the darkness, running his optics over Starscream's fear-distorted faceplates, relishing the way the crimson glow of his optics graced the smooth, charcoal-coloured metal. He almost opted for leaving the room dark, but a little voice spoke up from the back of his mind, telling him that darkness would probably do nothing to soothe the Seeker's obvious panic.

The digits of Megatron's free hand, the one that had let go of the Seeker's fist upon entrance, fumbled for another button embedded in the wall, a little _click_ and flickering lights chasing the darkness away.

"Now, Starscream..."

The Seeker's answer came in the form of another struggle, easily tamed by shoving the tri-coloured mess of flinging limbs and strained sputter of cooling systems into the nearest wall. The loud, yelp-comped _thud_ of the Seeker's frame rang as satisfyingly as ever, even if the real treat was the sight. Oh, a treat indeed, what with the crimson optics flickering and full lips parted in surprise.

The Decepticon leader faintly recalled some thought about permanently deactivating whoever dared to intrude his quarters, but with such a stunning Seeker, his shyly twitching elegant wings and all, pinned to the wall and his graceful frame at the gun-former's mercy, Megatron could hardly be blamed for getting a bit sidetracked. Slowly losing his interest in the reasons for Starscream's presence here, completely forgetting about having felt dead-tired and confused and fed up a couple of moments before, Megatron let out a slow, purring growl filled with the same lust he could feel trickling down his frame.

* * *

It was all like some outstretched bad joke; his back once more pressed against a wall, his leader, _once again_, close enough for Starscream to feel the warmth of the air the silver mech cycled, Megatron's smirking lips hovering so close to his faceplates that the raspy, thought-melting growl caressed his plating, its hot tone promising things he yearned unimaginably much.

Starscream was helpless to stop the bucking of his hips, the long grind of the two Decepticons' bodies solely caused by an instinctual, hardly purposeful, movement of his body. As if the friction had not been doing a good enough job in overrunning his rationality and remaining shards of restraint, the scraping contact of their hips earned the Seeker an excited, rumbling groan from Megatron. The sound seemed to stab right into Starscream's Spark, brutal and unwelcome but forcing him to enjoy its rough greediness.

A hitch of his vocaliser had the Seeker cringing, and he turned his gaze from the hungry fire in his leader's optics, briefly catching a deep dent in the wall to his left. Before that fresh addition to the décor of Megatron's quarters could distract Starscream, however, a black finger curled to grasp his chin lightly, turning his face back to his leader.

"You know what I want to hear, Starscream. There's no need to dance about this when we both are quite aware of the truth already."

An honest answer lingered on Starscream's lips for a fraction of a nanoklik, until confusion startled him into dumb silence.

Should he tell? What if his trinemates were right after all?

The Seeker did not know, his mind shaken back into indetermination and need when Megatron tightened his grip on his captured neck, pushing him more firmly against the wall, then caressed his chin with the blunt, powerful fingers of his other servo. The Seeker's wings beat a hectic rhythm against the wall behind him, the volume doubling along with the tempo when Megatron's lips, way too close to Starscream's own, stretched into a victorious grin.

* * *

The Decepticon leader drank his Second's inner struggle reflected on the dark faceplates, each restless shift of expression and the troubled creasing of Starscream's optic ridges making the gun-former's throttling servo clench in anticipation.

A grave mistake, so it seemed, as that unintended act of violence made the red optics burst afire with familiar anger.

"Let me go!" the jet screamed after a moment's deliberation – or confusion –, wriggling against the silver mech and trying to hit him once more. The Decepticon leader freed his other servo to stop the movement, grabbing the offending servo and slamming it hard against the wall. The further violence fed the Seeker's idiotic, at this point meaningless, denial; Starscream thrashed wildly against the hold Megatron had around his neck, struggling and flailing to strike the silver mech and finally shrieking in an indignant pitch, "Ah! Get off me, you rustheap!"

A growl of annoyance dropped from Megatron, full of the same displeasure he felt curling his mouth. The Decepticon leader pinned the Seeker down with his larger frame, leaning close enough to deny Starscream of any distance between their bodies, his bared dental plates lingering in straight in front of the currently sneering dark lips, barely separated from them.

"Yield to me, Starscream," Megatron ordered, tone fervent yet resolute. Their lips brushed with his words, that brief touch of their mouths unfamiliar but strangely intriguing. Starscream's reaction, however, had to be the most interesting aspect of it all; the jet's optics flew impossibly wide, a sharp squeak predicting a backwards jerk of his helm. Megatron took in the way his Second was gaping at him with an interested frown, intently watching as the Seeker's dark lips moved with frantic words either Starscream's mind or his vocaliser were unable to form at the moment.

The helplessness radiating from the whimpering mess of tri-coloured armour sealed Megatron's plans. He freed one servo of the taut neck, offering his Second plenty of time to protest before he slid his digits toward the Seeker's face, intent on ensuring it would stay in place this time. Megatron's Spark burst alive with sharp, uncontrollable lust as the dark helm lowered to rest against his fingers for a fleeting moment of complete fulfilment before a bright flash of Starscream's optics and a forceful jerk of his helm broke the contact.

"Stop! Stop this!"

The hysterical shriek tore through the limited air between their faces, the shrillness of it shaking the silver mech's thoughts with the realisation that the uppermost emotion in his Second's voice was not denial or anger or badly masked pleasure, but fear. The recognition made Megatron stop, just like Starscream had asked, but only for the time it took to blink and regather control of his processors.

"You want me to continue," the Decepticon leader said flatly, a touch bemused but with no sign of doubt present in his voice – not that there should have been, with the way Starscream's frame steadily heated against him. He brought his servo back to Starscream's face, the determination in his movements apparently rendering the Seeker helpless to lean away. Slowly, Megatron brushed his fingers against the dark, smooth metal of a cheek in curiosity. The Seeker crowed a _"Stop."_, in a shaky tone that stole away any firmness of an order and made the warlord chuckle. Optics calibrated to take in each small twitch of expression, to distinguish every hue of the Seeker's plating, Megatron observed Starscream. The sight was intoxicating, the curve of the stretched, taut neck-cables offered to him, the half-offline gaze that seemed almost over-energised in its unfocussed dimness.

Megatron's voice took a demanding, impatient tone when he inquired again, "You want me to carry on, don't you?"

"I don't! I hate you!" Starscream tried, the crack in his voice dominating the scream.

A touch of anger drifted into Megatron's Spark at the Seeker's ridiculous excuse of denial. No matter how entertaining the game of breaking his Second, it lost its entertainment value when replayed in the exact same way once again. Megatron couldn't help but wonder if his Second would be reduced to a pile of scrap by the time he managed to pry the truth from the Seeker's pretty mouth. It wasn't about doubt or need for confirmation anymore, but his pride that refused to go any further before Starscream surrendered to him and _finally _said what he wanted to hear.

"Don't resist me! I will just take what I want from you if you keep on refusing to cooperate," Megatron threatened, voice low, grave. He was serious, even if outright forcing the Seeker into telling the truth did not sound as pleasing as luring the words out of the Seeker.

"Ha! You can _try_," Starscream shrieked in answer, the sudden reignition of his fury making Megatron's optic ridge curve in disapproval and anger.

"Stop testing my patience! Why can't you say that you want me?" The roar was loaded with the annoyance that had brewed in the back of Megatron's processor for weeks and weeks and _weeks_, now erupting from his vocaliser in a burst of violent frustration. His digits tightened on the Seeker's face, anger mixing with lust as his optics followed the flashes of emotion on Starscream's faceplates: fear, anger, defiance, distress, fear again, confusion... Megatron snarled when the expression finally settled on wavering defiance, Starscream's lips drawing back to reveal his dentas. The Seeker tried to wriggle free, limbs flailing fiercely.

"Testing your patience? Excuse me if I don't feel like walking straight into your traps, dear leader! There's no reason to disclose that information to you, no rule binds me to tell you anything about what I feel for _anyone_!"

The Seeker's shriek, angry in words but faltering in tone, made Megatron's core burn with frustration, the feeling boiling over quickly. Starscream jerked his helm back defiantly, the warlord's fingers finally letting go of the far too tempting frame as anger took over. His servos dropped to his sides, clenching and unclenching as the need to crush the Seeker, to destroy the infuriating pest once and for all overcame him in a mindless rush of burning rage almost intense enough to drown all of the overwhelming need to possess the very same pest.

"Why did you start this all, then? Fool!" Megatron snapped. He could see the fire of his own optics reflected on Starscream's armour, the inferno of anger inside him eating away every last sliver of self-control and patience. "This is all your own fault."

"...Start this? What are you talking about? It is you who has been scrobbling me for no reason other than some delusional fantasy of yours! I have never agreed to becoming your personal plaything!"

"You know what I was referring to, Starscream," Megatron growled, no more bellowing but every bit as menacing in tone.

"I'm afraid that I don't, oh Great leader!"

Megatron's servos clenched into tight fists, rage once more on its happy journey to ruin the previously promising situation. "I'm talking about the times on Cybertron, you insolent brat! The first time!"

The Seeker paused at this, incredulity flaring in his optics. "What? That occasion when you tried to deactivate me for being reasonably disgusted at your … _proposal_? The fact that I didn't want to interface your rusty aft back then is hardly a reason for you to now demand me to tell lies about my, uh, emotional life! What you should blame is your own lack of appeal, _Lord Megatron_," Starscream finished in a scornful hiss, a smirk momentarily flashing on his face before giving way to the already familiar, lame sneer.

"You mean the same _'lack of appeal'_ that makes you melt at my slightest touch?" Megatron ground out, their faceplates still mere centimetres from each others' but all sense of delicious tension and heat swept from the way of vorns of anger and resentment. "Not to mention that I was not talking about that, as you very well know."

"Is that so? What might you _be _talking about, then? Have you maybe confused some fantasy of yours for truth, as I don't recall any _'first time'_ aside from the demonstration of your poor self-control I already mentioned."

The Decepticon leader growled, enraged beyond words at the Seeker's insolent act. Of course, he should have predicted that bringing up the less professional, more intimate aspects of their long, mostly hostile coexistence would result in violent outbursts from each of them, their occasional encounters having been an advisedly undiscussed topic, even if one that had without question caused much resentment as well as other strong emotions in both during the past vorns. It didn't help that neither of them were exactly experts at discussing, even less so when supposed do it civilly with each other. Keeping tempers under control was not easy, not with their mutual dislike – and, as it had started to become obvious, shared desire – for each other. The warlord partially wondered if he even wanted to start probing the matter of the long-continued 'punishments'.

Megatron snarled when a blue finger invaded his field of vision, raised to point at him accusingly.

"Oh, so that is it, Megatron?" The Seeker's dark lips drew into a knowing smirk.

The Decepticon leader's knuckles cracked sharply, his heavy intake of air shaking with rage he tried his very best to keep under control.

* * *

"See? You really have confused your disgusting daydreams with reality. That shows exactly why I would make a much more competent - -!" The hot haze of offended anger and nearly desperate stubbornness, aiming to help Starscream in guarding his secrets, dissolved mid-speech to give way to surprised wariness caused by a sharp whistle of air.

Starscream numbly stared at the huge servo hovering straight in front of his faceplates, the tightly-curled fist trembling with the weight of the tyrant's heavy intakes. The energon in Starscream's lines lost its temperature, freezing into clumps of frightened ice, his body moving on its own to press tighter against the wall. Further away from Megatron and his visibly crumbling self-control.

He could see that the silver mech wanted to strike him, and with an instinctive twitch of his arms – now lifted to shield his face – and a high-pitched yelp, Starscream realised that the impossibly deep dent in the wall to his left had been shaped by the same black fist now visibly shaking in front of his optics.

"Haven't I told you to stop testing my patience? **Have I not?**"

The threat in Megatron's voice was obvious, the promise of a painful deactivation discernible in both the roar and the following tense, ominous silence. Oh, not that the still-raised dark fist lessened the Seeker's anxiety, especially when it twitched in a manner that could easily have turned into an armour-crushing punch. It became worryingly clear to Starscream that his leader could indeed, like he so often declared, crush a mech with his bare hands. Effortlessly, too.

"Wait... Lord Megatron..."

"Wait? But my dear Second, I think I have _waited_ for quite long enough."

It was the slight shift of Megatron's frame that drew Starscream attention to the change in the tyrant's expression. As familiar to the Seeker as the previous mindless rage, the crimson blaze of Megatron's optics told that he had if not calmed down, at least slipped into a less life-threatening variety of anger. The lowering of the huge black servo allowed Starscream's frame to relax, only for the rigidity of his back to return in the next moment when his leader reduced all the distance the jet had managed by leaning into the wall, hissing his next words straight into the Seeker's audio, "Besides, to return to our previous course of conversation, have you considered the possibility that instead of my memories being false as you claim, it is you whose memory files are corrupted?"

Starscream couldn't have smothered the flare of his temper even if he had tried, and in front of such outrageous accusations he did not see why he should have tried. "_What? _My memory is excellent! I can't believe y - -"

The silver Decepticon slammed a servo to his throat mid-rant, the impact making Starscream's vocaliser stall and giving his leader a chance to cut in, his tone having turned contemplative, even confused alongside with the look in his optics, "It... It would explain why the second time never... And you were quite over-energised. It would make sense."

Starscream's vocaliser reactivated with a strange wheeze that quickly turned into a scream reflecting his outrage at Megatron's idiotic attempts to prove that there had been some sort of a _private_ encounter (what a worrisome thought) between them before the endless chain of very resenting _punishments_ he could remember, "Oh, what, I was miraculously drunk during this 'first time' of yours and the charge corrupted my memories? That is the most idiotic excuse I've ever heard! You're just too pathetic to admit that these events are obviously figments of - -"

An indeterminate near-growl snapped Starscream to realise that Megatron's servo no more rested on his neck, but had moved to encircle it, the silver mech's intentions unclear but actions somewhat promising – if one asked the excited leaps and bounces of the Seeker's Spark. At least, until the strong fingers attacked the base of Starscream's neck, forcibly prying open a panel in the armour there. The Seeker's ensuing scream of indignation and alarm only resulted in Megatron leaning closer to cease his struggles, the silver frame flush against Starscream, the silver Decepticon's words growled straight into his audio.

"Just accept the truth which, as you should remember, is what _I_ say, and _stop resisting me_!"

"W-What are you doing!" The gasps woven into his trembling tone sounded pitiful, but Starscream really couldn't blame himself for lack of composition when his leader's fingers prodded open a small panel in the back his neck – not that it was half as bad as Megatron trying to coax his interface panel open, the socket which the hard digits were seeking out only meant for data transmission. Still, the Seeker would have preferred for the tyrant not to open _anything_ in his frame against his will.

Megatron spoke again, a good amount of pure impatient tiredness in his tone, but the rage from bare moments ago ghosted in the hot undercurrents, caressing Starscream's plating, "If you won't believe my words I will just have to _show_ you."

"Huh?" Starscream squeaked out, only realising it was too late for surprise as Megatron's servo left his neck to grasp and tilt his chin in a way that the Seeker could have turned into a kiss by leaning a centimetre or two forward. That possibility distracted him for the moment it took from his leader to draw out a long cord from his own grey neck and stab it home into port revealed in his neck. A soft clink told that the physical connection was made, and Starscream's muddy processor was not up to the routine task of trying to prevent Megatron from doing anything, to him or otherwise; in this case, establishing the data flow. By the time the Seeker realised what was going on, he had already received the file Megatron had insistently pushed through the connection. The gun-former snatched his cord from Starscream neck a moment later, a self-satisfied glint in his optics.

"Why don't you take a look, Starscream?"

Out of both curiosity and, as much as Starscream loathed to admit it, fear for the beating the possibility of which Megatron's heavy fist had flashed a moment ago, the Seeker tore his mind off his leader's delightful nearness and took to observing the file he had received from the silver mech. The label revealed nothing except for proving it a memory file. The jet frowned contemplatively, cautious, running a scan on the file to make sure Megatron had not stooped as low as to attempting to send him viruses.

As nothing suspicious surfaced even after a few scans, the Seeker frowned a bit more, then braced himself with a quick intake and took to observing the statistics, carefully noting the date, set way past to times back on Cybertron. A short journey into his own memory banks brought up nothing but a faded file of a seemingly insignificant day, most of its contents replaced by notions like 'battle with Autobots', one of the outcome of the battle – defeat – and a few more sullen remnants of memories, making it obvious that after a couple derisive jabs about the day's battle his tyrant of a leader had beaten him. Nothing extraordinary ... except for the conclusive notion of that faraway day's events which startled him more than a bit – 'over-energisation'.

It matched what Megatron had said.

Desperately trying to herd away the sudden thrills of anticipation, Starscream hurried to recall his memories from the next day: similar nondescript notions, but among them a brief one about Megatron behaving oddly. Starscream's Spark jumped nearly painfully within his chest, his processor straining to search the memory file for more information, a more specific 'odd', but all the feeling he could extract from the aged file was the remembered hung-over processor-ache unmatched by any other he had experienced.

Starscream gulped, chills of anticipation running down his back-strut, then finally opened the file which buzzed into action, its condition the complete opposite of Starscream's memories of the same day: despite the memory file's age, it played like a fresh recording, vivid in colour and the events an integral chain, not a nanoklik skipped or faded or unclear.

A sign that the file had been replayed often, and with fondness. Starscream shivered at the thought.

Not to say that the contents of the memory file didn't give him reason to shiver, or the fact that he practically became Megatron as the tyrant's past thoughts raced through his mind, the intensity of the file capturing him until the massive pedes rattling the floors of the Decepticon HQ back on Cybertron felt like his own.

He – his leader – marched forward, steps purposeful but mind blank, absentmindedly nodding at passing Decepticons, all of whom seemed strangely tiny compared to him. Starscream had to smirk at the chance to look down at Soundwave, even if the Megatron he pretty much _was_ at this point regarded the telepath with disgusting appreciation. The Seeker harrumphed mentally before letting the memory lure him deeper into the past Decepticon HQ's corridors and _inside_ his leader … sort of.

He, rather, Megatron, reached the mess hall soon, intending to go grab a cube of energon and skulk back into his personal quarters to brood over the negative outcome of the day's battle, only for all of his less than happy thoughts to quiet down when the brightly coloured form of a pathetic-looking, slouched Seeker youngling caught his optics. The jet's usual obnoxiousness was diluted by high-grade, the whiny voice now a wheezy rasp as he mumbled to himself in obvious drunken sulkiness. Megatron barked a superior laugh – and Starscream jerked back to reality with the realisation that this over-energised, 'pitiful' Seeker he had witnessed in the silver mech's memory was himself. Megatron's disdainful thoughts about him lingered in his processors, making his dental plates grit in annoyance. Granted, his younger self's condition had seemed ... not exactly sober, but he still was, and had been, far superior to the tyrant in every way.

Starscream's curiosity had peaked nevertheless, so after a wary glance at his real leader, he sank back into the unbelievably clear memory, in which Megatron had walked up (Primus it was confusing to look at himself through another mech's optics) and stopped in front of the Seeker, lazily counting the empty energon cubes on the table before clearing his vocaliser to get his Second's attention.

"_Starscream,"_ he stated in a slightly criticising tone. The jet turned to look up at him, the usually bright optics dim with over-energisation.

"_What,"_ the Seeker answered, and the warlord had to laugh at the ridiculous way his Second managed to slur even that short word.

His voice – _Megatron's_ voice, frag it, the file befuddled Starscream's CPU to no end – had taken a more amused tone when he spoke again, even if his disapproval for the Seeker's behaviour came across as well, _"You are wasting resources, soldier." _

"_Soldier? I... uh, I am your Second, you piece of scrap!" _

"_Yet that rank does not justify such drinking habits, Starscream. I'm not about to let you waste high-grade when the only thing you do in your position is questioning my command." _A pause to let the Seeker sneer at him distaste, _"Such privileges as extra energon have to be earned." _

The Seeker sank into momentary drunken contemplativeness, then eyed him in a dim, smouldering manner which neither the past Megatron nor Starscream himself in the current time recognised. What Starscream did recognise, however, was the next movements of his younger self's frame. He knew the mindset such sleazy, seductive strut required as well as the motor functions behind the lazy, tempting arcs of his wings – and was a touch surprised to find out he had once acted in such sluttish manner in front of Megatron, the flutters of wings an open invitation. The thing he had been unaware of thus long, however, was how these seductive gestures affected his leader – or had affected in the past, at the least. A sudden barrage of arousal struck the silver mech's body, and Starscream found his own systems reciprocating the memory Megatron's lust as pictures of what the tyrant had wanted to do with him flashed into his conscience.

A quiet wish lurked into Starscream's mind and he found himself wanting to know whether half of his leader's appreciation for his frame from that time had made it through the vorns that had followed.

Starscream smirked, almost, having partially started to enjoy Megatron's memory, only for his strange mental calmness – possibly effects of the pleasant, lazy feeling that coloured the whole vivid memory he now eagerly dove deeper into – to shatter into stunned shards of mortification when the Seeker in the file, sharing his looks and designation but obviously not his rationality or sense of self-preservation and definitely not his sober state of CPU, strutted up to Megatron and leant into the silver mech's personal space with an undeniably suggestive curve to his dark, full lips. A moment later that same snide persuasiveness made to the young jet's voice, the sudden steadiness of which surprised both Megatron in the memory and Starscream in reality.

"_Oh, is my position of Second in Command not enough to provide me with the, mmh, _bliss_ of over-energisation, my Leader?" _

Starscream joined Megatron in frowning at his now-pouting Second.

"_Maybe..."_ the jet pressed against the Decepticon leader's plating in a bold manner, a warm servo trailing the insignia on his chest – the Megatron's in the memory, Starscream reminded himself as the tyrant's lust for the Seeker's younger incarnation threatened to take over his CPU – with nimble fingers.

"_I take it there's another _position_ I should assume – perhaps in a more private setting – to earn these … privileges, then?" _

The naked, crass tempt in the question shocked Starscream to snap out of the memory with a loud, appalled shriek, his focus turning from past events into the current moment where the real Megatron, whom Starscream had ignored for kliks, stood too close and smirked smugly at him.

The Seeker let out a tiny whine, too stunned by what he had seen in his leader's memory to speak for a while. When his processor caught up, the words came sudden, flooding his mind and erupting as a scream, "What slag is this? You ... It's made up, a fake! S-such thing never... they couldn't have..."

Starscream trailed off, his Spark pulsing painfully within his chest as his optics searched Megatron's harsh faceplates with near desperation for any sign that the tyrant indeed merely played him with false lessons of history. "... It can't be real, can it?"

Megatron's face broke into a deeply satisfied smirk at his whispered question. "Oh but Starscream, surely you noted that it was a real memory file. I can't claim I know what your own memories from the day are, but I am doubtful they would conflict with mine. With what you've seen."

Starscream could only croak a small protest-like sound when the pleasant, only slightly demanding and impatient warmth of his leader's next murmured words melted his thoughts. "I suggest you play the rest of the file, Seeker. It gets better."

With a light gasp, Starscream cast one more half-inquisitive, half-hypnotised glance at the gun-former before obeying his order with no word of protest.

Not an astrosecond later he was safely sunken in the memory again, looking through Megatron's optics still, his own thoughts thus slightly influenced and warped by the sheer amount of shameless lust that had reigned the silver mech's CPU at the time. The file had apparently skipped a part, the sudden relocation confusing Starscream until a new source of confusion, and shock, and undisputed arousal, sparked from the feeling of a hot body grinding against his … a pair of lips caressing his own.

For a shocked moment he thought it was happening in reality, that Megatron had taken advantage of his attentive replaying of the memory file, before unfamiliarly possessive and violent thoughts flooded his mind, a clear sign that the delicious feeling was a part of Megatron's memory where he was now kissing … Starscream. Himself?

Then, another thought struck Starscream hard, its impact blowing away the bafflement about who was doing what to whom in the memory file and managing to pull him back to himself, out of the memory where both his leader's and his own past self's servos had started wandering towards interface panels. Provided that the memory file was not a fake, and it did seem like a real thing,Megatron had _kissed_ him in the past and he did _not remember it_.

The memory file, still playing somewhere in the back of his mind, served to suggest that the intimacy of that past, drunken escapade had not been restricted to mere kissing.

Starscream's mind fell into prompt blankness the same moment as he buried the file deep into his processors.

* * *

"**Enough!**"

The silver mech jerked slightly away from the Seeker at the amazed shriek, his immediate attempt to give the impression that he hadn't been devouring the expressions that had shifted on his Second's faceplates while the jet had been replaying the file. The slight surprise's regime did not last long, the silver mech's lips soon lining a touch devious grin. "What is it, Starscream? You didn't even overload yet."

The Seeker's optics widened, the dark mouth gaping open in a thunder-struck expression which further stretched the corners of Megatron's lips. Starscream's accompanying, squeaking question sounded no less amusing, "_O-overload_?"

"In the memory, little fool. I told you it gets better, didn't you believe me?"

The Seeker's faceplates were wiped nearly blank by a delightful, disbelieving yelp, the remaining expression solely made of the wideness of his optics and minor twitches of his mouth as he fumbled for words. The Decepticon leader kept inching closer and closer as he allowed his Second to find the question his vocaliser strained to ask, stifling his own pleased growl in order to hear the faint, rasping words, "You... and I? Did... we... Oh Primus! Y-you wanted me?"

"You will have your answers. However, first you have to answer me. You know the question," Megatron demanded, his lips so close to the damp parted ones that it took all of his self-control to resist the itch to claim them mid-sentence.

Their optics locked in a marginally uncertain contact, a fervent search for truth, confirmation. Then, something solidified in Starscream's optics, the subdued spark of need bursting into full flames.

Starscream's mouth searched for the answer, the slight quivers of the dark lips each almost brushing against Megatron's mouth until all he could do to keep himself from ravaging his Second was to ignore the complaints of his knuckles and curl his already balled fists even tighter.

"Say it," the Decepticon leader urged.

His frame tensed the instant his optics registered the swift flurry of movement, his servos shooting out to prevent the escape attempt he had learnt to predict, his Fusion Cannon charging with a startled hum, his processors straining to push away the obtrusive lust to prepare him for whatever the Seeker would do this time.

Regardless of his alert state, Megatron found himself stunned an astrosecond before his Spark ceased to pulse altogether.

* * *

"Megatron." The faint mumble sounded dumb and out-of-place, an unnecessary interruption. No way of words, then, even if the dangers his other option contained were far worse.

Starscream took the risk, dread freezing his frame, launched himself into motion that was no attack but meant to bring him to his leader all the same. There was a couple of loud, surprised whirrs from Megatron's joints, alerting the Seeker to recall how reckless it was to do anything rash in the presence of his rough leader. Starscream could feel the gun-former tense against him the instant their frames made contact and pressed into the harder, heavier mech immediately, trying to erase the possibility of punishment by showing his – genuine – need to feel his leader's rough plating warm against his.

His hands did not stop shaking though, not even after it became clear that no silver arm had risen to slug him across the face or fling him into the far wall. The tyrant felt terrifyingly stiff against him, there was no way Starscream would have dared to take a peek at the silver faceplates. Actually, his optics had dimmed to a mostly offline state. Despite the fear-induced numbness of his body, the Seeker became quite aware of the erratic trembling of the wings drooping from his back. Starscream turned into one big, comprehensive cramp as he leant closer and touched his servos to the strong, stiff neck. Instead of curling his fingers around the thick cables in a useless attempt to strangle, the jet lightly looped his shaking arms around the tyrant's neck, drawing himself even closer.

Starscream's Spark thudded against his chest panels, insistent on escaping before the violence that would most definitely ensue, but the Seeker stood up on the tips of his pedes after a nervously silent sigh, stopped resisting the magnet-like force pulling him towards the silver mech, and kissed his leader.

His mind was blown away at the first awkward dry brush of lips, only to return a moment later when he realised something. Megatron's mouth was warm but nearly unresponsive against his, and granted, it did feel rather lame considering that kissing the gun-former should have been an infatuated fantasy brought to life... Starscream's Spark clenched, the wave of nervous disappointment enough to make him lean away from the kiss. He took in the vacant stare on the silver faceplates, not the kind of trance he wanted to witness as of now.

Frustration roiled inside Starscream.

"What is it _now_?" he spat, distasteful and feeling betrayed, not bothering to tone down the volume of his screech. This was not what he had waited millions of stellar cycles for."Did your rusty CPU crash or what? I thought you wanted me to - -"

His annoyed tirade was cut short by a low growl, not necessarily an angered one, rather something like... The Seeker's optics shot to his leader's faceplates, to take in the unnerving gleam lighting the crimson of the narrowed optics. His momentary peevishness faded and fled, even as his pride demanded him to finish what he had started – his words, "... Wanted me to s-show you what I… want …"

His arms still rested, shakily, on the silver neck which suddenly tightened, then vibrated with the lowest, most ominous growl Starscream had ever felt. Before the Seeker could jerk away or lean in or think about reacting, two urgent black servos had locked themselves into his plating, one set of digits twisted into the vents of his helm in a near-painful manner, the other five fingers a row of nasty dents in his neck-cables.

The Seeker let out a surprised moan, optics locked with the insane fire raging in Megatron's. He melted the moment his leader fervently brought their lips together again, the distance closed at the cost of a bolt of pain in Starscream's neck, his face painfully aligned by a wrench of a strong servo.

The feverish, heated kiss was somewhat clumsy, but Megatron's utter dominance, the undebatable power demonstrated by the warlord's rough servos and intrusive glossa, made up for the awkward clacks of their dental plates. The kiss was perfect, and even the part of the Seeker's CPU loathing and yearning Megatron's power had to acknowledge that was all thanks to the tyrant taking lead in his effective way.

The Seeker opened his mouth for the gun-former's exploration, relaxing into the strong arm Megatron curled around his back, right below his wings. Starscream could feel the familiar pattern of the Decepticon leader's every conquest in the contact of their mouths; the overwhelming, nearly sickening air of pure unwavering confidence, the deliberate progression and careful examination of everything won before the meticulous, triumphal act of relishing the victory and a new conquest. Megatron had moved from merely tasting his lips to greedily seizing his mouth.

Starscream did note that he was being marked as Megatron's property, all he could do to stand there molten in the hard grip, lips submissively parted for the tyrant's ministrations and offering not the slightest sliver of resistance as his leader brutally claimed him with hard glossa and sharp bites.

* * *

No matter his previous experience of one time, or the amount of fantasies awoken by that one kiss, Megatron could barely protect his sanity and self-restraint as his lips and dentas devoured his Second's mouth. The feeling of it did not compare to anything previously experienced, not when Starscream's whole hot frame vibrated against him with the efforts of the Seeker's cooling systems, not when the cursed jet moaned and winced at the bites the Decepticon leader gladly delivered to the dark lips. All the gun-former could think of was _more_, his earlier frustration and disappointment and pent-up lust turned into a hum of arousal in his audios, a taste filling his mind with its sweetness, a reek of energon and electricity feeding both of the former.

And the touch. Every centimetre of Starscream's front flush against him, one thruster-heeled leg seductively, though aimlessly, caressing the up the plating of his own inner leg, a pair of arms elegantly looped around his neck, fingers playing with the cables in the back of his neck. The kiss.

The Decepticon leader broke it if only to release the most possessive sound one could imagine, his gaze boring into the dark-coloured face and half-offline optics straight in front of him.

Steered by a rush of mindless greed, Megatron pushed the Seeker further against the wall and sunk his dentas into the already injured neck, threatening both the Seeker's screechy voice and his general well-being as he bit deeper into the suppliant cabling near a few major energon lines and the jet's vocal components. The half-pained gurgles his bites extracted drove him wild, drove him insane. Megatron tore his mouth from the Seeker's neck with a hard growl, in vain trying to find some semblance of self-control.

"Pit damn you Starscream," the warlord finally groaned with considerable difficulty, his voice thick and rough and nearly pained.

"Too much for you, mighty Megatron?" Starscream taunted, or tried to, his voice softened to a mellow rasp by pleasure. The Seeker tried a deriding laugh, but while Megatron was overwhelmed by lust, it rendered him no more sympathetic towards insults. His roaming fingers found a sharp wingtip, fiercely twisting it to turn the annoying burst of impudent laughter into a much more pleasant whimper.

"Don't flatter yourself."

Megatron didn't have it in him to wait for a possible reply. He sought the Seeker's energon-spattered lips in a searing, ruthless kiss, his dental plates cutting the dark lower lip component. His lips covered the Seeker's hungrily, their glossas meeting in a battle Megatron mercilessly dominated. The warlord finally backed away after a showy moan echoed from the Seeker, optics fixed on the stark contrast of streaming, purple energon and dark charcoal grey. Starscream looked inarguably tempting with his mutilated lips and pleasure-dimmed optics, the sharp wings faintly flapping behind him.

It was time they stopped playing around and got to the real thing.

With a soft groan, Megatron wrapped his arms around the jet's waist, hauling the lighter mech off his pedes with ease.

* * *

Starscream had no chance of containing his yelp at the sudden feeling of floor being yanked from under him – or him yanked off the floor. After blinking his optics, though, he found himself staring right into the flaring crimson of Megatron's optics.

"Shall we move to your berth?" he teased the larger mech, concealing his insecurity about such open suggestiveness and boldness with a broad, mischievous smirk. His leader did not bother to answer with anything but his actions, taking course to the large-ish berth. Starscream let out a nervous, dumb giggle before daintily wrapping his legs around the gun-former's waist, draping against the grey frame in order to continue and really start with his explorations.

The Seeker suspected Megatron had only scooped him off his pedes to humiliate him, but as long as being carried to berth meant having access to his leader's neck-cables and the deep groans evoked by Starscream's nipping lips and dentas, he really did not mind. A particularly low, gravelly sound made the Seeker shiver and his servos clench into the broad silver back, scratching slightly as he doubled his efforts on the tyrant's neck, his dentas drawing energon for his hungry glossa to lick and lap and, most importantly, taste.

A quick nip of his dentas between two cables earned the jet a tremor of a deep, rumbling groan, the chest he pressed against vibrating with the sound of it. Starscream answered with a pleased moan, repeating the bite with more force, this time actually gnawing the cables.

So occupied with littering the silver neck with bite marks Starscream was that he startled into a loud gasp as Megatron's grip slackened, then vanished from around his waist. Right as his back harshly collided with cold metal, fear struck him again. A haze of lust and relief and elation had curtained the last five kliks, sweeping from his processor all the hesitancy that despite his arousal had a fundamental reason to exist.

A reason he recalled now.  
The mech currently descending upon his frame was, after all, _Megatron_. That meant a lot of things, one of them the fact that Starscream's Spark had all the right and reason to chill at the sight of the tyrant's triumphal, gleeful smirk and blazing optics. Black knees clanked onto the berth on either side of his hips. The silver mech was straddling him.

Starscream winced with a sudden urge to flee, in spite of the pleasant sensations still warming his armour where Megatron's servos had moved to touch him. It did not ease his mind that said warmth was mostly located at his hip region and impatiently moving toward his chest, his cockpit, his interface panel located low on his white stomach. His body twitched.

"W-wait..." the word was a whisper, though a terrified, pleading one. The silver Decepticon grunted lowly and seemed to shrug off his silent plea with a quick 'not-now' swipe of his huge servo. Starscream considered backing away, shrieking, from his leader, needing some sort of consolation as his mind filled with memories of similar – no, resembling – moments. Megatron's hands on him, waking up sensations he couldn't control just before he … was never satisfied, never _connected_.

His leader's touches had started to float on his body in a perfect choreography, one far too complex – or too simple – to understand, but still more than enough to make the Seeker writhe and gasp and rock against the hand and the cooler frame now crouched over his own. Unknown to him, his faceplates contorted into a snarl, his mind and body and _world_ ripped apart by the conflict inside him; the warm, arousing sensations rattling his sense and self-restraint, contradicted by the rational fear of being used, being played with once again.

A firm, determined caress against his interface panel finally lured him to expose his interface array to the silver mech. To Megatron's actions.

In a seemingly carefree way the gun-former clicked open his own panel. Starscream had no time to beg or panic or run the Pit away as the Decepticon leader pushed the cable into his naked port. Starscream's whole body tautened with the fear that this would be the extent of intimacy between them once again, that Megatron would just steal his energy and infatuated bits of his spark by never completing the circle.

No energy exchange was formed, the half-connection between them dead, dull. Only a physical one, barely felt.

An overwhelming boom of a rumbling sound coloured the room with impatient lust, Starscream's mild squeak of a fearful protest hardly audible compared to it.

"Starscream." the tone, low and feverish, urged Starscream to lock optics with Megatron. The seriousness in the silver mech's optics startled him, as did the openly reluctant but unmistakably truthful words that followed,"_This_ was the closest I ever … happened to come to you after **that** time. Unsatisfying."

The silver mech stopped abruptly with a sharp growl, turning his optics to side in poorly concealed unease and hesitation. Starscream did not try to chase his leader's glare, waiting for the next words with a fluttering Spark and excited anticipation.

"But I c- - _did_ not stop doing this. I hated that. I hated you – still do."

Starscream could sense that the 'hated' could've both been replaced with 'wanted' without damaging the truthfulness of Megatron's words. The Seeker almost mocked the tyrant for this, for the stiff uneasiness of his little and somewhat useless confession, but... Did he really want to ruin what most likely was the closest to a verbal display of his leader's desire for him? Sure, the silver fool's actions well revealed how intense Megatron's lust for him was, his want underlined in the fervent kisses and the roaming of his relentless servos, the fire in his optics, but a confession like this – distinctly hard for the gun-former to give, too – somehow confirmed it all.

Megatron's crimson optics turned back to his after a moment, the look in them wary as his leader waited for the mocking comment that usually came at this point, the one the Seeker had already considered and abandoned. They stared at each other in silence, listening to the loud, much-revealing humming and whirring of each other's cooling systems, Megatron's cable still connected to Starscream but no energy exchange initiated.  
They adjusted to the truth, now revealed and dumbly, a bit awkwardly confessed by both, for one quiet moment longer before Megatron let out a small growl and broke the optic contact by snapping Starscream's optics to his lightly caressed interface cable. Dark fingers were now pulling the cord toward Megatron's port in a jerky manner that well illustrated just how much the Decepticon leader wanted to move on and make them both forget he had said anything.

They connected with a soft click. Fully. Connected.

Starscream let out a garish giggle, half of its shrillness remnants of panic, the rest roused by the unreal situation. He could see a baffled frown make its way onto Megatron's faceplates, the openly bewildered fascination nearly renewing his laughter. The Seeker denied the chortling sound by occupying his lips with Megatron's, offlining his optics as he curled his servos around the larger mech and demanded attention, action with a rough bite and a grind of hips against hips.

The first burst of electricity and energy and the stern relocation of Megatron's servos on his frame had Starscream chanting nonsensical declarations of various things into the dank, faintly energon-flavoured warmth of his leader's mouth, his servos clutched into the silver helm and neck to make sure the kiss didn't end and those much-too-imprudent words spill freely into the air.

* * *

It had barely started, yet the silver mech realised his mistake too late, already losing his battle against the aggressive, lewd flurry of clinging servos, demanding lips and glossa and muffled exclamations of unashamed and frank need – and rough combination of energon and oral lubricant and electricity in place of both taste and smell – his Second had transformed into. The Seeker, though physically weaker and inferior to him, was eating away, hungrily devouring every last shred of Megatron's self-control, making him want the little foolish glitch far too much. He couldn't find his common sense for the want ravaging his processor, Starscream's wanton actions shredding him into complete uncontrollability.

With a feral groan, Megatron bombarded the connection, and through it, Starscream's systems, with a merciless amount of raw energy, a fierce, coerced snarl distorting his faceplates when the dark lips left his to release an obnoxiously loud, crude gurgle of a scream.

"Damn you, Seeker," Megatron groaned, having to push the strained sound past his lips with way too great effort. Somewhere in the back of his processor he knew he was repeating himself, but that was right about the last rational thought his CPU could process, the charge building between them and inside both of them wiping away too much and leaving him with thoughts that held no importance as of now. It was as if the sheer passion of Starscream's too-greedy servos and mouth – now nibbling, then biting, then _rending_ Megatron's neck – could drive him insane, with lust and raw violent need that erupted in the form of his own servos digging into the thinner plating, twisting a wing, pawing a vulnerable, glassy canopy.

* * *

The Seeker arched against the larger, slightly cooler frame; one set of fingers clenching on the silver helm until it creaked under the violent grasp, the clutching, scrabbling gestures imitated on a silver shoulder by the other servo; his legs shooting up to curl around black hips; his front grinding against Megatron in a motion that held no real reason aside from bringing their frames into even more throughout contact. He wanted, he _needed _more, more of his leader's touches and teasing pinches on his armour.

A raw wave of unbearable pleasure crashed over Starscream's body, his optics blinding and vocaliser straining from the force of the shriek that reached an almost ultrasound pitch. He burnt. His whole frame was on fire, possessive flames spreading from where their frames were joined by cords, flowing through him, burning everything in their way and leaving chaos behind.

The intense feeling of a new surge of energy pushing into his Spark was almost enough to make Starscream topple into a world of burning white and screamed whispers; thrashing, his fingers had nearly pierced the silver plating of his leader's helm and shoulder by now. His body convulsed, his Spark a hot, swollen sphere of pure need, ready to let go and proceed to overload.

Except that he did not want release. Not yet.

He forced the energy to retain its looping course once more, responding to Megatron's apparent tries to make him overload with a sneer and a delirious moan.

* * *

Electric energy bandied, raging, back and forth through the connection like a living thing, Megatron's every attempt to overwhelm his defiant Second countered by the Seeker insistently pushing the energy back into him, the charge doubling and tripling until it hummed and sang in their systems and charred more delicate circuitry, drawing unhealthy sounds from their frames. Core temperatures reached points they wouldn't have during any safe activity, the growing volume of moans and growls reflecting the pleasure that explored the borders of pain.

"F-frag! More!"

The jet's voice had gone from breathless to static-filled, a pitiful raspy moan that drove Megatron crazy with the need to hear that voice turn into the final scream he knew Starscream would provide upon overload. The anticipation made the Decepticon leader's servos tighten on the sleek body and his processor blank. The gun-former could barely see, hazily drifting somewhere between imminent overload and prompt offlining. Not that Starscream seemed to be faring any better, his blue fingers having migrated to tremble on the silver mech's lower back and face, convulsing into Megatron's plating at every new pulse of energy.

"_More!"_

The screech was bossy, pretentious now. Megatron grunted in annoyance.

Overload, that little final push he could provide, but more? He didn't think so.

"Fool!" he had to collect his thoughts, assume control of his vocaliser before he continued, "A bigger charge would fry your circuits."

Saying that aloud made Megatron snap to observe the extent of damage on the lighter frame, most if not all of it caused by his own servos crushing and holding and throttling. Starscream would be due for a visit to the med bay in any case, but Megatron preferred it not be because his insides were charred by the charge coursing through the two of them. The Seeker had already cost this army enough with his recent visits to the med bay, and banging a few dents out of the frame would be much easier and less time-consuming than replacing a whole load of frayed components. "Just overload, Starscream."

Starscream did not seem to be buying his annoyed commands, however. With a twist of the colourful frame, the previously sprawled Seeker attempted to reverse their positions in vain, then finally contented with flinging his back up and off the berth, bringing his heated front flush against the gun-former's chest.

Megatron growled, first at the sensation of servos grasping his back and then at the sharp bite his neck received. The Seeker's dentas sunk into his cabling, a touch too demanding, possessive, to suit the Decepticon leader's tastes. Megatron's words of disapproval, however, turned into a throaty groan as Starscream smashed their hips together in a fierce motion. The next thing the gun-former knew was a leg flung around his waist, the hotness of the Seeker's heel resting against his lower back. Another uncontrolled sound of pleasure was forced from him when the heel-thruster started to spew sparks onto the plating of his lower back, the Seeker's foot massaging, or mauling, his armour in circular motions punctuated by the hot sparks spilling from the thruster.

Megatron's fingers had dropped to dig deep into the berth on either side of Starscream's shoulder vents, the sensations caused by the little pest churning inside him. For a moment it was illustrated to the silver mech how it would feel to give Starscream control, but even as the Seeker's actions made his Spark tighten in rapture and his frame convulse, he could not embrace it as aware of the treachery planted into Starscream's Spark as he was. As the leader. He had the power, the control, which he could not risk giving up for the sake of pleasure.

Megatron forced out an effortful growl, ripping his neck free of the Seeker's sharp dentas. The red hips defiantly kept grinding against his, spreading their bright colour onto Megatron's stomach and hips in scratches that he could he feel marring his paintjob. He could see the jet purposefully resisting overload, the sneer-grin – Starscream's expressions were shifting faster than Megatron's optics could register – on the dark faceplates, the coy defiance shining in the Seeker's feverishly burning optics. The thruster hadn't stopped its painfully pleasurable massage, either: sparks showered into Megatron's frame from the heel that dug into the seam of his hips and back. The sensation drove all sense from his processor, rendering him unable to silence his Second's next plea of _"More..."_ and chasing the suitable answer of _**"You couldn't handle 'more'!"**_ from his mind. Megatron couldn't help but give in, the sight of those shaky, wickedly grinning lips forming the words destroying his self-control.

With an enraged, or possessive, roar Megatron shook the white leg off his back, the stinging feeling of heat lingering even as he took control once more. His servos gripped the Seeker's waist in a forceful, dominating grip, his mind tightening along with his hold. A dark haze of want fell to curtain his thoughts, his whole body trembling and stiffening as he assembled a bigger charge. The gun-former forced the painful, near-dangerous amount of energy through their connection with a crazed growl, servos clenched into the Seeker's thin plating. Starscream's servos shot to grasp his helm and crush their lips together in one fluid, sudden movement, the jet's loud shriek drowning into the savage taste of the needy, vicious battle of lips and glossa.

Megatron, however, had no problem in multitasking; even with his mouth and at least half of his CPU reserved for devouring the bleeding mouth already mauled by his teeth, his servos never fell idle. They wandered the scorching planes of the Seeker's body, one reaching to take care of the hot plating of a wildly twitching wing while the other contented with caressing and squeezing the energon-slicked cables of the grey neck, controlling the kiss with harsh, domineering jerks of his arm.

Starscream responded his actions with a new muffled scream, bit deep into a previously cut wound in Megatron's lips. The warlord growled but never found the chance to punish his Second, distracted by smaller hips again canting into his, the two frames brought to a perfect full-body grind. The friction nearly burnt, only eased by the spasms of his Seeker's frame betraying the awaiting overload.

A broad smirk tugging on his mutilated lip components, Megatron pulled away from the kiss with one last nip to the darker lips. A whimper ensued, encouraging the Decepticon leader to fully online his dimmed optics and relish the sight of his wretched Second writhing and whining under him, colourful frame taken over by helpless convulsions.

All it took to exchange the spasms for violent thrashing was a little bolt of energy, which Megatron sent through the connection overcome by glee and anticipation, his own systems on fire with the charge gathered in them.

Starscream's shriek of pained pleasure tore right through reality, accompanying a mindless, paintjob-destroying grind of the red-and-white frame which doubled the friction between their bodies. The jet's servos had moved to bore deep into Megatron's shoulders, the fingertips clutching and drilling into the thick plating. The Seeker jerked against him one more time, the squeak of Starscream's cockpit glass drowned by the blinding cry of its owner.

Then, silence. A moment of perfect, if tense, stillness before the whole world, or at least the Decepticon Second in Command, crumbled with one weak, static-filled moan. The Seeker's optics flared intensively before dimming and offlining.

Megatron had about half of an astrosecond to prepare for the rush of electric energy – feedback of Starscream's overload and a dangerous amount of energy – before it hurled through the connection, tearing him into pieces of white-hot pleasure and stinging pain. His servos, still grabbing his Seeker's body, clenched in an ultimate sign of ecstasy, only a moment before their hold along with his body weakened and finally gave.

The room, greatly shaken by the shrill shrieks of the smaller mech, fell into thoughtful silence after the feral final roar of its owner.

...

Rebooting after such an overload was a small miracle on itself, no doubt, but being rudely awakened by a mean – though somewhat feeble considering who delivered it – kick to the side dulled the surprise and brought forth suitable rage. Megatron was on his pedes in a flash he regretted the moment his hydraulics nearly gave, his processor a heavy mud stirred only by the anger that had wasted no time registering that his infuriating, bratty glitch of a Second had actually dared to try and kick him off his own berth. In order to snuggle into the space Megatron's frame had occupied moments ago, it seemed.

The warlord's dental plates ground together as he tried his best not to notice how restful and charming the brightly coloured Seeker looked there. Before he could blame his CPU for wandering, though, the gun-former registered the faint wisps of smoke that rose from the offlined jet's frame. His grimace shifted into a frown, his arm twitching toward the jet whose numerous injuries, caused by both anger and desire, Megatron now recalled. What had a moment ago seemed like peaceful recharge turned out to be a near-stasis state, Starscream's self-repair systems working audibly hard. The silver mech leant closer to observe his Second, awkwardly shaking a limp shoulder and repeating the jet's name and a couple of nasty insults for a few times until it became obvious that the Seeker had intention of waking up.

"Useless pile of scrap!" the gun-former spat, no more trying to stir awake the slightly sparking, dent-covered and energon-painted Seeker, simply externalising his frustration. The Decepticon leader briefly considered hauling the offline frame off his berth to let himself relax and recharge in its place. He ditched the idea when Starscream's systems started sputtering on their own, a pitiful but somewhat unnerving sound that could mean serious damage.

A trip to the med bay, then, one he would have to make himself as his troops were in the mess hall wasting the precious energon collected in today's raid and rendering themselves incapable of any work tomorrow morning.

The silver mech had no idea as to how he should have scooped the slack frame up, but Starscream was in no condition to complain about his rough handling and awkward fumbling as he lifted the sparking, still-hot frame and started on his way toward medical attention. The gun-former mentally thanked Primus for the restrictions he had set the Constructicons about high-grade and parties – Hook actually answered when Megatron called him over comm, bothering to inform the crane only of Starscream's sorry state and ordering him to prepare to receive the Seeker. No matter how obvious the cause of his Second's damaged state might be upon inspection, Megatron did not intend to shed light on that matter himself.

Halfway to the med bay Megatron realised he was rather carrying than dragging the limp, still-smoking Seeker – the black helm rested neatly against his chest, the surprisingly lightweight body comfortably gathered in his arms. The only problem, and the only reason he noticed the jet's position on his arms, were the wings. They were simply too big, and it had been a nasty poke of one white wingtip that had prodded Megatron to realise that instead of scratching the floor, Starscream's frame was brushing against his own in a strangely pleasant way. He stared at the slack charcoal grey faceplates for a bemused moment, then shook his helm and let unnecessary thoughts slip from his still-gruff processor.

Megatron did, though, still possess the presence of mind to fling the jet's limp frame down before stepping inside the med bay. He entered, dragging the tri-coloured frame as if it had been the only right way to ever move an unconscious Starscream. It had been, before.

He cared for Hook's exclamations of surprise and confusion even less than he cared for the medical babble the Constructicon started entertaining him with the moment the Seeker was laid down on a medical berth, frame exposed to the lime-green mech's much-too-sharp observation. The Decepticon leader fled the medical bay before any awkward questions could be launched into the air, waving a dismissive hand at Hook who dutifully inquired about Megatron's own mild injuries. The Decepticon leader retreated into his quarters in a hurry worn by the heavy tiredness weighing his limbs and mind.

Megatron passed a few pairs of incredulous optics on his way, Starscream's staggering, blabbering trinemates, too, but paid no real attention to the other mechs wandering his corridors.

Rushing to his door, the Decepticon leader punched in the access code, impatiently shifting weight as his door slid open, stepping inside and breaking into an uncontrollable burst of somewhat-insane laughter out of sheer pleased tiredness.

Spilled energon still decorated his quarters and own frame, streaks of red and white paint scraped all over his front, his lips a battlefield of spattered energon and marks of Starscream's dentas and anyone, especially Hook, that had seen on his journey to and back from the med bay knew far too much by now, and he couldn't have cared less.

Starscream was his. The arrogant, attractive fool of a traitor, **his**. Completely so. Of course nothing would be perfect or easy, nothing ever was with Starscream, but even so, Megatron felt like this was enough. The Seeker's passion, the hints of the characteristic, delicious defiance he clearly would not abandon... They were satisfactory, and far more than that.

For the first time in many, many million stellar cycles, the combination of weariness and thoughts about Starscream brought a strange giddiness into Megatron's CPU. A feeling of unrestrained mirth bubbled up from the dark depths of his Spark, sending him into a new burst of barking, pleased laughter that coloured the relaxed silence of his quarters with triumph and amusement long after the actual sound died down, first into hoarse chuckles and then into actual quietness after Megatron drifted into deeply pleased recharge, finally triumphal.


	15. Noise

**AN: **And so, after battling with FFNet a bit (it still doesn't let me mark this as completed..), we reach the end of this little fic. Which will not have a sequel, ever, because it would be sad and end in death.

It's been awesome writing this, I hope you enjoyed the fic.

Much love to you all and see you later, if I manage to arrange my plans for a new fic!

* * *

**15. Noise**

* * *

"_Mmn..._"

Starscream's wing twitched on its own, searching the pleasant attention it had received a nanoklik ago. The warmth of a touch lingered on the plating, a sensation that his frame accepted even as his bleary processors began to disagree. The thought of someone waking him up with soft touches stirred his constant paranoia as well as a deep, sluggish feeling of confusion.

"Megatron?" he mumbled, _moaned_, in a languid tone, no thought process preceding the gratified whisper.

"Not…quite."

It was not Megatron's voice, and Starscream sprang into a sitting position with his Spark skipping pulses even as his CPU struggled to comprehend why he had imagined the awkward reply to be delivered in Megatron's voice frequency in the first place. Optics flown wide, Starscream perceived his surroundings, the bright lights overhead making the medical equipment in the room shine and gleam. With a frown adorning his faceplates, the Seeker turned his gaze to the other occupant of the med bay and quite stupidly stared at the green-and-purple colour scheme that decisively confirmed that the mech touching—_inspecting_, or repairing at most—his wing so pleasantly had not been Megatron but one of the Constructicons. Scrapper, more specifically.

Starscream blinked, the frown plastered onto his faceplates as Scrapper stopped his staring and turned from him after a shake of helm, muttering something closely akin to _"Do I even want to know?"_ under his breath. Starscream, after a moment's useless processing, had to admit that he was not sure if he wanted to know, either. The Seeker was not exactly looking forward to recalling the previous day, not after hearing himself speak out loud in a tone that should have never made it out of his own private quarters. His general grogginess was all the clue of yesterday's events he had, telling of prolonged stasis and, therefore, extensive repairs. The Seeker chased his memories for a while longer, his scowl deepening along with the prevailing silence in the med bay, then gave up with a petulant sniff and took to contemplating his own mumble from a couple of kliks ago.

"_Megatron."_ It refused to make sense, the connection between his leader's name and a pleasurable feeling, yet he had uttered the name ex tempore and with no questions about the sensibility of it all while still rebooting. The Seeker pouted, blatant neglect all the attention he paid to his current company as his CPU strained to draw a connection between

_Wham_.

…Oh. His memories from the day before rebooted slyly and with no warning whatsoever. Taking him by complete, utter, jaw-dropping-optic-bulging surprise.

_Sweet Primus._ Starscream was quite sure he had screamed that aloud, judging by the subtle you-might-want-to-shut-up-before-I-dismantle-you helm-clutching gesture Scrapper made. The Seeker rushed to his feet and to the door, ignoring the lime-and-purple mech's further vexed glares and equally annoyed summary of Starscream's completed repairs and clearance.

The Seeker left the med bay half-sneaking, half-prancing; the lighter, bouncier steps immediately undone by nervous, skulking strides as suspicious thoughts borne of vorns of disappointment and Spark-ache darted to restrain the giddy pulses of his core.

Starscream cursed, not too softly, a bemused sigh lingering on his lips and waiting its turn to fill the silence of the peacefully empty corridor—it was still early morning, even more so for his hung-over Decepticon comrades who would not be waking up nor be doing anything useful in a long time. The Seeker chuckled a dry laugh at thought of their current conditions, then fell quiet again, listening to the draggy clack-clack of his heels, uncaring of where the sound was leading him.

He ran into Soundwave in a turn of the hallway. The blue mech stood there: solemn, unreadable as ever but seeming almost important, like a seer of some sort. Starscream quirked an optic ridge, waiting for something he knew to expect. Soundwave had been helping in confusing him and making things worse during the past weeks, after all, it seemed more than probable that he had a new source of disorientation to present even now.

"Megatron's location: Control Room."

Everything Megatron-related appeared to have become incomprehensible overnight, as Starscream found himself processing the tape deck's statement over and over again, only to huff in irritation after realising there was no meaning to extract from the metallic words. "Why would I want to know that?"

"Starscream: meditates very loudly."

Starscream jumped, optics narrowing rapidly as his privacy was invaded in that inconsistent monotone. The thought of Soundwave reading his mind was uncomfortable at any time, but particularly now when his thoughts were soaked with inappropriate images from last night and a number of desires and insecurities matching them. His faceplate contorted into a snarl during the two clipped steps that brought him into the blue mech's personal space.

"You have no right to probe my mind!" The Seeker jabbed a sharp finger into the tape deck's face, glaring at him so hotly he half-expected to see the mouth-plate guarding the telepath's features begin to melt.

"Probing: unnecessary. Starscream's thoughts: impossible to disregard."

"I… I! You dare!" The Seeker cringed inwardly at his eloquent reply, his CPU too reserved in trying to guard itself from Soundwave's intrusive telepathy to form a coherent sentence. The blue mech did not answer, only stared Starscream in a chilling way until the Seeker decided he'd had enough and backed from the telepath's face with a warning snarl, "Keep out of my mind."

"Objective: achieved. Soundwave: has work to do."

The jet was left glaring at the blue back as the tape deck turned tail with that conclusive but trivial statement. Soundwave cast no suspicious backward glances during the span of time Starscream spent waiting for them specifically, and as the telepath rounded the next corner, the Seeker reluctantly let his thoughts sail again.

It seemed there was nothing better to do than visiting the Control Room. Megatron.

Starscream sighed, hoping that last night had been about what his memory files claimed it had. He would miss the light, happy feeling about his Spark if it proved to be another daydream or a trick of some sort.

* * *

The Control Room morning-dozed in a rare state of complete silence. The silver mech lounging in his throne was eyeing the monitors in an idle way, aware that there was not much work to do. The Decepticons had their storages so full of energon that it would ensure a week of relative laziness, the rich energy reserves providing the suitable ease of processor and free time for thinking up and elaborating schemes to conquer the Universe with. For Megatron and him only, the situation was much more fortunate still, though.

The Decepticons had energy and _he_ had Starscream—the contentment inspired by those facts had been a reason good enough to dismiss the poor Stunticons that had not taken part in yesterday's raid and had thus appointed themselves with a long night of monitor duty. Generosity may have not been in Megatron's character, but keeping a lazy optic on the monitors of the Control Room was a cheap price to pay for a few joors of quietness. Besides, moving to the Control Room after waking up had helped him dodge any feelings of irresponsibility, and the screens lining the room's walls pleasantly reflected his genius and consequent success at any rate—the reported number of energon cubes in the storage was nearly unbelievable considering that his troops had spent a good portion of the original loot last evening.

A sly sound of opening door pried Megatron's gaze off the screen to meet a crimson pair of optics peering at him in a nonplussed way.

Excitement ran through the silver frame at the sight, lifting the Decepticon leader's smirk into a denta-revealing grin. The expression settled on his faceplates with ease, a touch too inadvertently upbeat to match his person. Starscream regarded him with a mistrustful glance, seeming to stop and doubletake when his optics reached the near-smile on Megatron's face. After a moment, the jet's optics lit up with a warm light that probably reflected relief or contentment, the light transforming into mischief and Starscream's expression into a confident smirk along the way the Decepticon Second briskly made across the room. The Seeker's repaired frame gleamed softly in the bright light, begging Megatron to trace every curve with his servos.  
"_My_ Second," he purred in a greeting of sorts, the rumble welling up from the warmth that filled his entire chest.

The Seeker, half a step from the silver mech, stopped, hesitated. His confident smirk fell, replaced by an unsure expression made of parted lips and flickering gaze. The Decepticon leader's servos tightened on the arms of his throne.

Starscream, the master of ambivalence, prince of indecision and always ready to disappoint as he was, fidgeted for a klik, every single one of his backwards glances—the door seemed to endlessly intrigue the Seeker all of a sudden—making Megatron tense in growing annoyance. The silver mech's mouth began to part to bark a thorny question, but snapped shut as Starscream reacted, finally.

By shuffling his pedes in a decidedly ridiculous manner and casting his face down to mumble a tedious answer,"Eh. Um, morning, Lord Megatron. I didn't expect to meet you here."

The silver Decepticon spotted the clumsy lie with ease, its transparency insulting Starscream's usual wit. "Why wouldn't I be here?"

The jet still refused to establish optic contact, mouth twisted in something that would've passed for the disappointment it was even if Megatron hadn't been so aware of Starscream's desire to be talking something else entirely. He could see the question on the Seeker's face, the uncertainty in his actions speaking volumes when his mouth didn't. Starscream still needed verification that last evening had mattered. Dim little Seeker.

"It's barely morning," the jet blathered on, so clearly wanting to change subject to something relevant that Megatron couldn't help but assist him a little with an answer.

"You think the leader can laze about? I have a cause to maintain. Troops to supervise." The silver mech grimaced, hit by the realisation that he had taken to rambling, now.

"For a mech so hungry for power you surely know little about the liabilities of leadership," Megatron, still grimacing, added if only to finish that statement. He hadn't meant to get sidetracked; the long-worn-out mechanical remarks were not why he had looked forward to seeing his Second. He cut the Seeker off before he could take offence and spit a round high-pitched of barbs at him, "You have been patched, I see. The Constructicons did a nice job on your frame."

Starscream's face snapped up, his features rounded by naked hopefulness. "Yes, my Lord."

Megatron grinned triumphantly, standing up from his seat. The jet withdrew slightly, a wary gesture Megatron had learnt to expect but did not approve of just now. He reached for the Seeker by reflex, not sure if his original intention had been to lightly grasp the wingtip that flinched into his servo as Starscream fidgeted nervously. The peaked tip of the wing felt warm in his fingers, the fine sensors on its surface ready to be stimulated. Judging by the data Megatron had first-hand gathered about the Seeker's anatomy yesterday, a simple touch to the wings would've had Starscream writhing in his grasp. The silver mech's fans thrummed slightly, then quieted in petulant disappointment as the warlord forewent the idea and merely held the wing like the gesture was part of daily routine. He could feel Starscream's optics on him as he turned the wing a bit, trying to appear to be inspecting the repairs that had erased the marks of his fingers from its span. He hummed, faux-contemplative,"Excellent repair job, indeed. It's as if nothing happened at all."

With that, Megatron let go of the warm Seeker, delighting at the way the colourful frame twisted in search for further contact. He reseated himself in the throne, lifting his optics to observe the far wall. The warlord could feel the Seeker's optics searching his faceplates, pleading for optic contact and an answer of some sort. The Decepticon leader could imagine the jet's confusion and insecurity—and couldn't wait for Starscream to abandon the both of them.

"But…but something **did** happen, right?" Starscream whispered, so meek and tentative and nearly vulnerable that Megatron had no idea what to answer. Instead of a reply, he turned his gaze to capture the Seeker's bright pleading optics. "Something…changed?"

The Decepticon leader half-snarled, fed up with the Seeker's dubiety, but didn't deny the begging stare. He let himself be fooled into saying something that could've meant his doom had Starscream been merely bluffing, scheming once again (not that the jet knew how to act convincingly), "Yes. Now, Star- -"

The Seeker acted as fast as the change from uncertainty to excitement in his expression. Megatron barely had time to register that the tri-coloured frame had moved before all of the Seeker's passion was poured into him once again as their lips met in a long, languid kiss and Starscream clambered onto his lap, all desperately clinging limbs and shivering warmth. Megatron grunted his approval into the contact of their mouths, reaching to help the jet into the seat and to press the smaller frame against his, ignoring the uncomfortable implications the act of sharing his throne, especially in such a pleasure-dimmed mindset, bore.

Their lip components drifted apart after a moment, optics locked in a heated stare. The silent respite lasted only for a nanoklik, though; the impatient wandering of Starscream servos soon renewed, betraying the jet's need.

"Eager to move on, Starscream?"

"So are you," the Seeker answered with a jab and a broad, confident grin. The Decepticon leader couldn't help but answer the grin, the childishly excited expression on the jet's faceplates something he wanted to have all for himself.

"Greedy little Seeker. Why rush?"

"'Greedy'? Me? You're the one dead set on conquering the whole Universe."

It felt surreal, somehow, to have Starscream spout his usual retorts into his face in such a casual albeit husky tone, the unreal feeling contrasting with the Seeker's very, very tangible warmth and weight on his lap.

"Your silence shows that you agree, oh Mighty Leader," Starscream giggled mockingly.

"Mute it."

The Seeker did, but only after Megatron had crushed their lips together again.

* * *

Starscream drowsed against the cooling chest, listened to the slowing hums of the fans within, and wondered at the hands keeping him in place and on the larger frame—the sizzling post-overload sensations had started to subside by now, but the hold remained possessive. Starscream had anticipated a swift kick or backhand at first; the throne was strictly off-limits, and Megatron had never forgotten to painfully remind the Seeker of that whenever Starscream had tested his luck before. He should have been forcefully removed from the seat already, yet there he dozed in the massive chair, on his leader, and purred stupidly as their systems cooled down from overload.

Perhaps Megatron was merely recovering for a second round? Starscream would not resist if that turned out to be the case, but…He couldn't remember if he'd seen his leader this satisfied, relaxed in his presence. Ever.

A gaudy blare of near-comprehensible sound broke the jet's musings, his Spark racing at hyperspeed even after the shock passed and he realised the sound had been his communications systems recovering with a bang—his trinemates seemed to have bombarded the trine-link him for a moment now.

_'Screamer? 'Screamer! Oh sweet frag it's you!'_

The red Seeker grimaced, trying toslip back into the content mindset from before but failing as Skywarp's far-too-loud, daze-shattering voice shouted further exclamations of relief over the link between their trine.

_'Starscream? So you're still alive after all,'_ Thundercracker's decidedly calmer voice joined in after a while. Starscream could hear the crease of the blue Seeker's optic ridge.

_'Of course I am alive, fools! Why would you expect me to have died overnight?'_

_'We saw Megatron near the med bay last night. That couldn't all have been his energon if he was still on his pedes, so…' _Thundercracker trailed off, undoubtedly shook his helm wherever in the base he was, and continued his reasoning, _'We thought we'd check up on you next morning, see if you're still functioning and all.'_

_'You were not there!' _Skywarp interrupted in a hysterical shriek, _'There was only Mixmaster there an' he was drinking his aft off last night and had no idea if you'd been to the med bay at all! We checked your quarters next, then mess hall, then our **own **damn quarters in case you'd come to kill me—sorry, 'bout last night, 'Screamer! Slag it, I thought warping you in Meg's quarters was a good idea!—then - -'_

_'Get to the point or shut up, imbecile!'_

'_Thanks, Starscream. We tried to comm you after that. For half a joor. What happened to your communication systems?'_

'_I was... distracted,' _Starscream answered his blue trinemate, not at all embarrassed that it had been Megatron 'distracting' him with way too clever servos and heated kisses and an overload matching the one from yesterday evening. Nor did he regret that the interface mode seemed to disable communications systems.

'_Distracted? __**Distracted?**__ I thought I'd helped Megatron murder you! That he'd dumped your slagged-up mangled carcass in the ocean, for Primus' sake! Frag! I...So...You ok?'_

'_Quite good, thank you very much. I...made it out of our charming leader's quarters last night. Mind you, I still won't forgive you about that anytime soon, Skywarp.'_

Thundercracker's voice drowned the purple flier's stream of frantic apologies, _'Where are you now?'_

Starscream flinched, glancing quickly upwards to take in Megatron's brightening optics and noting that the servos on his frame had started to trace patterns—a second round of interfacing seemed more than possible. _'In good servos.'_

He cut the link with that, centring his attention on Megatron again.

"You were talking with someone," the Decepticon leader mused in a remotely stern tone.

Starscream flinched._"What?_ How did you - - it was over the trine-link, no-one else can - -!"

"You should learn to guard your expressions, Seeker. They betray a lot," Megatron grumbled in answer, but with a grin that made clear the Decepticon leader was not really scolding the jet for his expressiveness. Starscream pouted slightly. "What did your trinemates want?"

"Skywarp was under the impression that teleporting me into your quarters had turned out to be a bad idea after all."

"Ah, so that's how you ended up there…I believe you righted him?" —Starscream half-smirked dryly— "Ha. At least you expressed your eternal gratitude?"

The Seeker faltered."Gratitude? He disobeyed my orders and put me in danger, I don't think he deserves - -"

"I'll thank Skywarp for the both of us later, then. Generously."

Starscream was just about to dive in for the kiss he preferred over a meaningless retort, when the door to the Control Room swished open and stopped time.

With an instinctual pang of disappointment, Starscream prepared for the hard shove and whatever ridiculous, theatrical accusation (_"Your schemes are transparent as usual, traitor! Know that you will never occupy this seat!"_) with which Megatron would defend his own dignity and gain some distance between them.

They couldn't afford to let this secret spread, as spread like cosmic rust it would once set free.

Or so the Decepticon Second in Command had, wisely in his opinion, thought. Megatron, however, peered over Starscream's wing uninterestedly, yanked the Seeker in for a brief but showy kiss and smirked smugly before turning back to the interrupter the jet couldn't identify for his own shoulder vents and the grip that held him tightly in place.

"…Interruption: unintentional. Apologies, Lord Megatron."

* * *

Megatron was surprised only by the fact that he wasn't. Interruptions had become such a recurrent event during the past month, made by both Soundwave and Starscream's fidgets, that all he did was to tighten his hold on the wriggling Seeker, and regard his Third in Command with the marginal interest he had to show as a responsible leader. "I have my servos full at the moment, Soundwave. Did you have something important?"

"Negative. Monitor duty: can wait," Soundwave droned, observing the setting of the Decepticon high command cramped on the throne with interest. Megatron couldn't figure out if the telepath liked the arrangement or not.

"_Excellent_! Now, please inform the first shift workers that we have some problems with…overheating mechanisms in the Control Room. Those need to be sorted out before they can begin their work."

"Estimation: how long will that take?" the blue mech intoned dully, as if oblivious to the leery ambiguity of Megatron's words and the smug squeeze he gave Starscream's aft.

Speaking of the pouty Seeker in his lap, Megatron couldn't help but wonder why no pathetic _"This is not what it seems!" _directed at Soundwave had escaped the jet yet. Starscream did glare at his leader and probably would have liked to turn to glare at the telepath too, but aside from that and the servos that dug into Megatron's arms with intent that could have very well been murderous, his Second did nothing.

"Let's say another joor. No one is to enter until that, understood?" Megatron smirked lecherously at the surprised but distinctly pleased gasp Starscream let out at the word 'joor', feeling waves of approval and arousal radiate from the Seeker.

"Affirmative."

"Good. Dismissed."

Soundwave didn't move. "Lord Megatron."

"Yes, Soundwave?" Megatron tensed, however slightly, not sure what the tape deck was up to. The red visor stared back at him blankly.

"Congratulations on your conquest."

The Decepticon leader had never heard an emotionless monotone more mischievous, and after the bolt of initial shock passed, Megatron burst into a wild laughter that accompanied the telepath's departure.

The door slid shut as quickly as it had opened.

"…A _conquest_?"

"That would mean you, dear Starscream."

"I am not stupid, you ancient glitch! And _I_, Starscream the Mighty, am most definitely not a conquest any more than some possession of yours!"

Megatron grinned at the Seeker's obvious anger, taunting his Second with a crafty pinch to his backside. Starscream shivered immediately. "You keep telling yourself that, dear Seeker."

The jet shook in the Decepticon leader's lap, dentas bared in outrage and mouth wide open in a resonant, blustery scream,"A-and Soundwave! If he tells anyone, it will ruin my reputation! You could have _done_ something, you rusted-over dimwit!"

"Don't worry about your…reputation, Starscream. Unlike some other mechs, Soundwave knows when to keep secrets…and when not to."

Megatron could see the upcoming burst of rants and obscenities on the Seeker's lips, the curve of the dark upper lip a perfectly offended, contemptuous one. The Decepticon leader rolled his optics and spoke before his unnecessarily loud and far too shrill Second could, "Now, I suggest we make better use of the joor I managed to steal us. You can argue about this later."

The silver mech ignored the momentary indecision on Starscream's face and yanked the Seeker into a kiss, grunting his disapproval for the sake of it when one of Starscream's blue fists pettishly collided with the side of his face before circling his helm and pressing their mouths into a deeper contact. He might have deserved the punch—Megatron could imagine the amount of sheer painful stinging residing in the place of Seeker's pride.

He chuckled a throaty laugh into the kiss, feeling the dark lips stretch into a slight smirk against his.

Escorted to its doom by a hum of cooling fans; shuffling, pinching, exploring sounds of unrestrained servos and kiss-muffled mewls and groans, the silence of too well-kept secrets and miscommunication already strained to its limits after everything that had passed, finally shattered under pleasure.


End file.
